


Infection

by dreaming_gold



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Angst, Danti - Freeform, Everybody's manipulating everybody, I like psychologically torturing Jack, M/M, Plotty, Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Violence, am i a bad person?, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_gold/pseuds/dreaming_gold
Summary: He'd decided to branch out a bit and hit some of the lesser known cons around the states; God knows there were plenty to choose from. And so he found himself here, in the deep south, in the sweltering heat and oppressive humidity of late August Georgia.Atlanta.---An encounter with a strange 'fan' at a convention sends Mark and Jack's lives in all sorts of strange directions.Or, an interesting (if not-even-close-to-canon) alternate origin story for Darkiplier and Antisepticeye.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Umm... hi! I've been kicking this story around a bit and suddenly got a burst of inspiration over the past couple of days. I generally like to fully complete a story before I post, but I'm aiming for this one to go long. So, uh, enjoy?

There was something about cons that drew him in. Flashing lights, blaring sounds, the tingling of excitement permeating the air… there was nothing to dislike about them. He loved every aspect of a good con, and it gave Mark a good chance to interact with his fans.  
He'd decided to branch out a bit and hit some of the lesser known cons around the states; God knows there were plenty to choose from. And so he found himself here, in the deep south, in the sweltering heat and oppressive humidity of late August Georgia.  
Atlanta.  
An odd city, full of a hodgepodge of people. The roads were confusing, the public transportation made no sense, and yet everyone was so friendly. And the cons were great. He'd seen cosplayers spilling out of hotel lobbies and ridden the train with costumed characters of all sorts. The seminars and panels were massive, huge names dropping in for quick Q&A's. Video games, tabletop games, anime, you name it, it was there.  
And he reminded himself that he'd somehow managed to squeeze himself and his friends into a booth for signings at the last minute. Someone must've been looking out for him and his fickle whims.  
He sat back in his mildly creaky folding chair, a genuine smile on his face as the line to his table seemed to tremble in excitement. He'd been at it for a few hours already, yet somehow seemed to never tire of meeting fans, learning names, taking pictures… it was almost intoxicating. Despite the hand cramps and the rumbling in his stomach for food, he was happy to be there.  
A gaggle of girls had just moved away from his table when he saw her standing there. A girl, probably no more than 16 or 17. A long white dress - he thought they called it a peasant dress? - clung to her skinny frame. She seemed remarkably overdressed for the event. Maybe a cosplay? But her long, limp, greasy red hair clashed wildly with the prim and properness of her dress. Maybe a horror cosplay…?  
Something about how bright her eyes were and how wide her smile was made a feeling of discomfort rise in his stomach. If it was a cosplay, he didn't know what character she was, but damn had she done a good job.  
Doesn't matter, he reminded himself. She was a fan, and she was next in line.  
“Hi there,” he said, holding up a hand in a friendly gesture. “What's your name?”  
She stepped closer, but didn't answer. Instead, her impossibly wide smile seemed to widen even more.  
“Umm…” he tried again, awkward. “Did you want me to sign something, or…?”  
She shook her head, stepping close enough to press her scrawny thighs against the edge of the table. He looked around, but no one seemed to be paying much attention. Jack had managed to fly in at the last minute and was attending to his own fans at the table to Mark's left, and the right opened up to the main floor. People were passing by constantly, but he suddenly felt very alone.  
“Okay then…” he said quietly. “How can I-”  
“Can I touch you?” Her voice sliced through the air with a commanding presence. He was taken aback by how strong it was from such a small girl. He felt off balance, off kilter.  
“I can, uh, shake your hand?”  
She nodded emphatically and stuck a pale hand out to him. He smiled slightly; just a fan after all. A weird one, but just a girl. He reached out to take her hand.  
As their palms touched, the whole world pitched forward and slid out from underneath him.

Suddenly, he was falling.

Darkness pressed in on him from all sides, and he was so shocked he forgot to scream. Instead, he simply tumbled, falling, heading for an inky blackness with no end in sight. It was as if someone had simply erased the world and forgot to erase him along with it.  
He wasn't sure how long he had stopped falling before he became aware of it. There was no impact, no pain, he just… stopped. He heard his breath echo around him in the emptiness. What the hell?! What had just happened?! He felt his heart rate pick up as he glanced around, nervous, afraid… But saw nothing but more darkness.  
“H-h-hello?” He called out into the void. It echoed back to him mockingly. “What the hell is happening?”  
Silence.  
No matter how much he stumbled around, how he called out, there appeared to be no end in sight. He felt panic begin to creep into his bones. Was this death? Was he dead?  
A voice rang out from the darkness. “You will do.”  
He nearly jumped out of his skin. He began to run, his hands out in front of him, feeling for a wall, an object, anything that wasn't just nothing. And finally, he saw a mist forming. A monochrome grey mist rising from what he supposed was the floor. It coiled in on itself, twisting and turning in an elaborate dance until it formed the outline of a person.  
“Hello, Mark,” said the person. It was a man's voice, rich, deep, and slightly… Off? He couldn't think of a description for it other than mildly tinny, like an old telephone connection. The mist was forming features; a body; a face.  
“Who are you, and where the hell am I?” Mark spat, feeling exasperated and confused. “How did I get here?”  
“I am you, in a sense,” said the mist man, and as his features became more defined, he did indeed look almost exactly like Mark. “As for where you are and how you got here, well… in due time, I am sure you'll understand.”  
“What does that mean?!”  
The man chuckled and stepped out of the mist, fully formed. Mark's breath caught in his throat as he looked at a near mirror image of himself. But he was wrong; so wrong. The expression mirror Mark wore was cold and calculating, no trace of the warmth he tried to show in everything he did. His eyes were pitch black, no spark of life in them at all. And he stood so rigidly, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, as mirror Mark regarded real Mark with a half smirk.  
“You will do quite nicely,” he said approvingly, almost as if he were in a discussion with himself.  
“I don't understand this…” Mark whispered.  
“No, I am certain you do not. Do not worry, you will have plenty of time to ponder it later.”  
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles,” Mark hissed, beginning to lose patience with this… Thing. “I was at a con, talking to a fan, and suddenly I'm here. I'm obviously not getting an answer from you as to what's happening, so would you kindly put me back where I'm supposed to be?”  
“Oh Mark, so impatient…” Its voice was like woodsmoke, musky and heavy. It let out a sigh. “But if you insist, I suppose you can go back now.”  
“Great, thanks. Now how do I-”  
For the second time in a very brief period, Mark was interrupted as the thing was suddenly right before him, its hands lightly touching his chest. It pushed, and he felt himself being sucked upwards, the world slipping around him once again.  
“Wake up, Mark. Wake up.”

“Wake up, Mark! What the hell, man?!”  
Mark opened his eyes to find himself in the floor, Jack kneeling beside him and slapping his face worriedly. He groaned and swatted Jack's hands away.  
“What happened?” He asked, groggy. He was surrounded by people, some in security guard uniforms, some carrying medical bags. He tried to sit up but was immediately pushed back down by an EMT taking his blood pressure.  
“Don't move yet, we're trying to make sure there's no trauma.”  
Mark looked around again. The circle of people around him blocked him from view for the most part, but he still saw people passing by behind them, concerned looks on their faces.  
“I don't know what happened,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “One minute I'm talkin’ to a fan and the next yer in the floor havin’ a fuckin’ seizure. Scared the shit outta me.”  
Mark waved away the EMT as they removed the blood pressure cuff from his arm. “I'm fine, I'm fine.” He searched the immediate crowd, finding no trace of the girl who'd sparked this whole mess. “What happened to the girl?”  
“The one that had yer hand in a damn vice grip when ya fell? She wouldn't let go, had ta get security to take her away.”  
“Jesus,” Mark breathed.  
“Yeah, and she kept sayin’ somethin’ about how it's gonna be dark soon. Musta been crazy, it's like 2 in the afternoon.”  
“Got it,” Mark pulled himself together and up off the ground with a grunt, and thankfully the staff that had him circled off gave him some space.  
“Your vitals are fine for now, but you should really see a doctor later to make sure you didn't hit your head.” The EMT told him as the staff began to float away.  
“I will, sure,” Mark replied absently, his eyes on the line of fans still standing at his table, eyeing him curiously. “I need to get back to it.”  
“You sure ya don't want to go back ta the hotel and rest, Mark? I can cover for ya.”  
“I'm good, thanks Jack. Think I'm just hungry. I'll grab something from the vending machines and then get back to my table.”  
“If yer sure yer okay…” Jack was looking at him dubiously.  
“I'm alright, really. Now, my public awaits!” He gave a goofy grin as he swept his hand over the people standing in line. Jack rolled his eyes bit didn't say another word as he returned to his own table.  
“I'll be back in just a few minutes, I'm sorry,” Mark said to the people at the front of the line. Everyone seemed to be understanding as he walked towards a branching hallway for the vending machines. He jangled the coins in his pocket as he gazed at the selection.  
Something about the crazy girl's words stuck with him. It will be dark soon? What did that mean? What had happened when he passed out? Was what he saw during the fainted dream?  
He almost thought he heard a chuckle like woodsmoke in the back of his mind.  
Shaking the thoughts from his head as he picked up the bags of chips and popcorn he bought, he knew one thing for sure:  
Atlanta sure was a strange place.


	2. Sick

Mark sighed as he entered his suite in the hotel. The rest of the con had passed by in a blur since the incident with the strange girl. He felt weary down to his bones, the sort of feeling you have after completing some momentous task. Yet he had barely done anything. In fact, he sat at his table the rest of the time, chatting with con-goers and signing autographs. Still, everything ached.  
“Must be getting old,” he muttered to himself, not sure how much of that statement was a joke. He shrugged off his bag in the living area floor and stretched, trying to decide whether he wanted to shower now or just fall face-first into bed. He’d have to do it all again tomorrow.  
Before he’d made up his mind, there was a knock at the door.  
He sighed again as he looked out the peephole. Jack. Probably come to check on him. Best to let him in before he starts to worry more.  
“Heya Mark,” Jack said, breezing in once the door opened as if he owned the place. He looked around and let out a low whistle. “Nice place! Leave it ta Mark ta get the suite.”  
“Can I… help you, Jack?” Mark pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was unlike him to be acting so unpleasant, so annoyed, but the aching of his body and his exhaustion was pulling on him. The strangest feeling had settled into his nerves, almost as if there was something moving around inside of him, stretching, testing out the flexibility of his muscles. Almost like he was a costume being worn by… something else.  
“Well, shit, Mr. Grumpy-pants!” Jack huffed, crossing his arms as he made himself at home on the couch. “Sorry ta bother ya an’ all, but I wanted ta make sure you were okay after seein’ ya have a fuckin’ seizure earlier. In case ya forgot about it.”  
“I didn’t forget,” Mark said softly, feeling guilty. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”  
“Oh yeah?” Jack looked him over, an eyebrow raised. “Ya sure ya shouldn’t go see a doctor or somethin’? Make sure ya didn’t hit yer head?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“Yeah, but-”  
“I’m fine.”  
“I really think-”  
“Damn it, Jack, I said I was fine!” They both jumped at the loudness of Mark’s voice, startled. Jack stared at him, eyes wide, and Mark covered his mouth with his hand. “Really, I promise, I’m fine. I think I just need a shower and a good night’s rest and I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”  
“If ya say so…” Jack’s voice was small, defeated. Mark felt guilt creep into his throat. Jack was only worried about him. Why did it agitate him so much? “But if it’s all the same ta ya, I’m gonna sit right here on yer couch while ya shower in case ya fall again.”  
“And I’m sure you’d do it anyway, even if I said to go back to your room, right?”  
“Yep.”  
“Thought so.”  
“What’re friends for, eh?”  
Mark had to smile at that. It felt almost as if his lips cracked when he did. Wow, had he really been frowning so long that it hurt to smile? He nodded his assent silently and trudged into the bathroom. The steamy water would do his muscles good.  
He lost himself in thought as he stepped into the spray. Hot water, nearly scalding, pelted his skin as he sighed, relaxing into it. Today had been a very strange day. In the aftermath of his ‘seizure’, he'd felt different. Unlike himself. He felt almost crowded in his brain, as if something had cordoned off its own space there and taken up residence. It was unsettling.  
And that dream he'd had. Was it a dream? It had felt so real, but he hadn't said anything about it to anyone. How could he? He'd sound insane, and then they were sure to make him go to the doctor. And aside from the typical manly stereotype of not liking doctors, something inside him really, really, really did not want him anywhere near one. Almost violently so.  
You should relax.  
There was a voice inside his head. It sounded like his, yet… Not. There was an undertone of something else beneath. A type of distortion. And the words wrapped around his thoughts like mist, inviting and seductive. His body's physical reaction was immediate: skin crawling, muscles tensing, recoiling, and yet… and yet his brain didn't even register that there was something odd about this. He just felt tired. So tired. And it would be so nice to just relax…  
That’s right. Just relax. Let me in and you can rest.  
He leaned against the cool tile of the shower wall, the contrast between it and the hot water incredibly pleasant. Yes, he needed rest. His thoughts were growing fuzzier by the second. He felt the tense muscles in his arms and back begin to uncoil, and he sighed in relief.  
The sensation of something just underneath his skin, slipping down into each finger tip as if putting on a glove, didn't even matter. His eyelids fluttered.  
And Mark rested, sinking into the blissful oblivion of sleep, on his feet standing in a hot shower. 

“You spread yourself so thin, Mark.”  
That voice. Smokey, tinny, carefully enunciating each word. He was dreaming again. Everything was dark; he wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed. He wasn't sure if it mattered.  
“What is happening to me?” His voice was weak and echoed around him.  
“The human body's physical reaction… fascinating.” Was that an answer, or was… that thing… talking to itself?  
“Who are you?”  
“As I said, I am you,” the voice answered with infinite patience. “I am your inner self. I am your unconscious desires. And yet, I am also myself.”  
“Yeah? Well, I am too fucking tired to try and figure out riddles.”  
A chuckle. “Ah, I do like your zest. I hope, in time, you will learn to accept me. Maybe even like me. After all the… unpleasantries, of course.”  
“Unpleasantries?”  
“Yes.” No more answers; no more explanations. Just a simple yes.  
“You're going to have to give me more than that.”  
“I do not have to give you anything.” A frustrated nose; did it come from him or the thing?  
“What do you want, then?”  
The words felt like a smile, wicked and thin. “To live. To experience. To feel.” The last word came in a chill whisper. “Freedom.”  
“And what does any of that have to do with me?”  
“You will be my guide. My vehicle, per say.”  
“That doesn't make any goddamn sense.”  
“Soon…” The word echoed around him, swept across his skin like a cool breeze. “Soon you will understand. It will be dark soon, after all.”  
“It's already dark, what are you talk-”

_BAM BAM BAM_

“Mark? Are ya alive in there?”  
Pounding on the bathroom door jolted Mark awake, any vestiges of the strange dream he had been having swiftly slipping away. He sputtered; the water raining down on him was cold. How long had he been in the shower? As he reached to turn the knobs off, his stomach roiled.  
Before he knew it, the contents of his stomach were in the bathtub, swirling down the drain in the shower water. He retched, loud and undignified.  
“Jaysus,” he heard Jack exclaim. “Mark, I'm comin’ in.”  
“No no, I'm fine!” He answered. Or, he tried to. As soon as his mouth opened, another wave of nausea hit him, and stomach acid poured into the tub. He fell to his knees, suddenly feeling very weak and shivering. He heard the door open, and he was only half conscious of the water turning off and a towel being thrown over his back.  
“Fuckin’ hell, yer burnin’ up! Why didn't ya say anything?” Jack was helping him to his feet, wrapping another towel around his waist to give him just a little modesty. The little Irishman somehow managed to get him out of the tub, and half supported, half dragged him into the bedroom. He fell into the bed, scrambling under the warmth of the covers as fast as his illness-addled limbs would let him. Jack was in and out of the room, piling more blankets on him, finding pillows, a glass of water on the nightstand… everything seemed to move at double speed around him and his thoughts weren't quite keeping up.  
“Fell asleep fer like an hour, figured you'd be done by then, fuck's sake, ya scared me half to death, just lay back, ol’ Jackaboy's gotcha…” Jack was muttering an absolute torrent of words as he fussed about the room, trying to make things as comfortable as possible.  
“Jack…Jack…! SEAN!” Mark wheezed, his throat sore. “For God's sake, I'm okay, I'm not dying.”  
Jack finally stopped, a guilty look on his face as he plopped into a chair pulled up next to Mark's bed. “I'm sorry, I fell asleep, shoulda been payin’ more attention… you coulda fallen and hit yer head again and it would've been all on me.”  
“It's fine. I fell asleep too, it's okay.”  
“In the shower?”  
“Yeah, somehow…” Mark chuckled through his clattering teeth. The edges of his vision were turning black and closing in on him.  
“First thing in the mornin’, doctor time for Markimoo.”  
Mark was too weak to even offer the protest on his lips. And then the world darkened, and he blacked out.


	3. Doubled

Mark woke the next morning feeling fine. No, more than fine. He felt great. Apart from an irritating itch on the palm of his right hand, he couldn't recall ever feeling better. The sun had just risen, yet his eyes had popped open like clockwork, his body suddenly fully awake and ready for the day.  
He sat up and stretched, a cascade of blankets falling off of him from the night before. It was almost like he hadn't been violently ill at all. He scratched absently at the itch. Everything seemed bright, and his thoughts were clear.  
Almost.  
_You handled that beautifully. I am… surprised how quickly your body adjusted to me. It seems we were destined, Mark._  
The voice in his head spoke with the utmost clarity. Any tinny-ness had disappeared, and it felt almost as if it was speaking right into his ear.  
_“Annnd this is normal,”_ he thought sarcastically to himself, continuing to scratch his palm.  
The voice chuckled. _For you, it will be. You and I are partners now._  
_“I feel like I should be a little more concerned about this.”_  
_This? What do you mean by ‘this’?_  
_“You know, another voice in my head? Talking to me? Pretty sure most people would probably be a little freaked out about that. In fact, I think if this had happened at this time yesterday, I'd have been flipping my absolute shit.”_  
The voice chuckled, but offered no response.  
_“Have I lost my mind?”_  
_No, your mind has been expanded. Opened. It has let me in, embraced me._  
_“Fuck, you sound like you're writing poetry. Now I know I'm crazy. My inner voice talks to me in fucking riddles and haikus and shit… who are you, anyway?”_ Mark continued to scratch his palm, slowly becoming aware of himself doing it.  
_You can call me Dark._  
_“Greeeeat…”_ He rolled his eyes internally. _“My inner voice is also an edgelord. Fuck, my palm really itches!”_  
_Ah, yes. Another… Unpleasantry. It will wear off in time._  
Mark sighed and stretched again. Part of him, a small part, sounded alarm bells. Not normal. Not okay. This was really really wrong. But it seemed to bounce right off him, roll off his skin, sounding more like an annoying mother screeching ‘You'll shoot your eye out!’ at him over and over than anything else. This was okay. This was comfortable. Nothing weird about this.  
Even though it felt like these thoughts weren't actually his.  
He finally took in the slumped figure of Jack, still sat in his chair next to the bed. Jack snored softly, his green hair messy while he slept, peaceful and relaxed. Even Mark's stirring and the extra blankets falling off the bed hadn't roused him. He chuckled. Good old Jack, always ready to help out a friend in need. Luckily Mark hadn't needed much last night, but seeing his friend there, bent in an awkward position as he tried to fit into the chair, comforted him.  
He slid his feet over the edge of the bed, careful to be quiet as to not wake the sleeping Irishman. He felt good. Powerful. Full of boundless energy.  
He decided to hit the exercise room before heading over for the con’s opening. He quickly scribbled a note for Jack, and with energy surging through his muscles, left the room, humming an unfamiliar tune.

Jack woke with an obnoxious crick in his neck. He couldn't help the hiss of pain and discomfort that slid from his lips as he popped his limbs back into place. Blearily, he looked around, trying to remember where he was and why on Earth he was sleeping in an uncomfortable chair.He'd been dreaming, and it had been wonderful…  
What had it been about?  
Ah yes. The object of his affections. The man that permanently resided in his mind.  
Mark. He had been with Mark last night, both in his dreams and the waking world.  
Oh _shit_ , Mark!  
Frantically, he sprung from the chair and pulled the blankets from the bed. The extras he'd found were already in the floor. But there was no Mark. Instead, a piece of hotel stationary flittered lightly to the ground from the unoccupied pillow. Jack snatched it up.  
‘Jack,’ it read in Mark's distinctive handwriting, and Jack felt his heart flutter. 'Thanks for the help. Feeling much better. Gonna hit the gym- I'll meet you at the con. Mark’  
Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise as he read and reread the note several times. Mark had been running a pretty intense fever last night. He had had nothing left in his stomach when he'd fallen asleep. How the hell did he feel well enough to work out this morning?  
Jack rubbed his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he tossed the note back onto the bed. A quick glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told him it was 10:30am.  
...His breath caught.  
_Shit_ , he was late to today's signing!  
Without a second thought to his ruffled hair, askew clothing, or puffy eyes, he ran from the suite all the way down though the lobby, tearing through guests and con-goers alike. He said nothing but muttered apologies as he pushed his way into the ballroom. He skirted cosplayers and booths, moving as fast as the crowds would let him, until the floor finally opened up and he spotted the tables he had been assigned to.  
And there was Mark, standing behind his neighboring table like a damn beacon with his bright red hair and obnoxious laugh. He was... beautiful. Shaking his head, Jack made his way behind his own table, collapsing into the rickety folding chair he'd been provided. The smell of coffee hit his nostrils as he caught his breath.  
“Nice of you to finally join us, Jackaboy.” The lines to their tables were relatively small this early, and Mark had slipped over to him.  
“Shut yer mouth,” Jack grumbled. “Some of us were up late takin’ care of sick doofs last night. Speakin’ of which, what in the hell? Ya go from pukin’ up yer damn guts to workin’ out at the ass crack o’ dawn in less than, what, eight hours? What's up with that?”  
“I feel great!” Mark grinned like an overexcited puppy. “Thanks for all the help! I, uh, got you coffee at least?”  
Jack grumbled again and picked up the cup of hotel coffee that had been left for him on the table. Mark was so sweet. And yet he had no idea how much more Jack wanted, and so he swallowed down the rising feelings. Friend. Mark was his good friend. “Fuckin’ ass…next time yer on yer own.”  
“Love you too!” Mark teased, waving his hand as he returned to his own table to talk with some fans, and Jack nearly choked on his coffee, face burning. Damn him. Damn him and his flirty, stupid, distinctly Mark ways that made him such a mess.  
Somehow, slowly, he managed to distract himself from the man next to him. Work. This was work. He had to focus. Jack sipped his coffee, chatting absently with his own fans as he slowly woke up, mind still fighting off thoughts of the man beside him..  
Strange day.

The next few hours passed without incident until Jack's stomach let out an angry growl.  
“Hey Mark,” he called over. “Should we close the booths down for lunch?”  
“Sure.” They placed ‘be back soon’ signs on their tables and began to walk away.  
But not before one of the con security staff caught Mark by the arm. Mark visibly stiffened, looking at the man with a strange mix of curiosity and disgust that Jack didn't recognize. One that seemed alien on Mark's face.  
“Mr. Fischbach,” the man said humbly, barely looking up from the ground. “I'm the head of security here, and I just wanted to apologise for yesterday's… incident. We take pride in protecting our VIP's here, and I wanted to assure you this was an isolated incident.”  
“Did you catch the girl?” Mark's voice was dark, low, almost… dangerous. Jack flinched nearly as hard as the security man.  
“I'm afraid not… the local police are still looking, though.”  
“Then what good are you too me?” The words came out like a hiss from a venomous snake, and Mark pulled his arm away from the man. The man stood dumbfounded as Mark placed his hand on the poor guy's shoulder and slowly began to squeeze. “What good is a useless, inept security man that cannot even catch a single teenaged girl?”  
“I...I…” the man floundered. He bit his lip and glanced down at Mark's hand gripping his shoulder. “That, uh… that hurts…”  
Mark was silent, hand still squeezing as he stared intensely with eyes much darker than Jack remembered them being.  
“Mark,” Jack broke the silence, a note of concern in his voice. “What're ya doin’?”  
Like a switch had been flipped, Mark quickly let go of the man's shoulder and stepped back, almost as if he were surprised. “I'm so sorry, just a bit nervous, haha…”  
The security man stared back at him in fear, nodding a miniscule yes and stumbling away as quickly as possible.  
“Dude, what the fuck was that?”  
“Huh?” Mark seemed distracted. “What was what?”  
“Whatever just happened! I think that poor security guy'll need a new pair o’ pants after that!”  
“Oh…” Mark turned to look at Jack, a guilty little smile on his face. “Guess I was more bothered by yesterday than I thought, heh.”  
“No shit!” Jack paused, looking at his good friend. “Look, man, are ya sure yer alright?”  
“Yeah, yeah, totally fine. Maybe just a bit tired still. Let's just get some food.”  
They continued on their way, but a strange apprehension settled into Jack's stomach as they walked away.

The rest of the con slipped by without incident, though the uneasy feeling in Jack's stomach remained as he cast furtive glances in Mark's direction through the whole thing. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the incident with the security man stuck in his mind like glue, refusing to leave even while he tried to focus his attention elsewhere. It was just so uncharacteristic of Mark. He'd never treated anyone with anything less than the upmost kindness, and his sudden cold-bordering-on-violent attitude was jarring, to say the least. His attitude was one of the things Jack love- no no no, not loved. Liked. It was one of the things Jack liked about him. His friend.  
So, even long after the con was over, he couldn't help but think about the event, alone in his hotel room. He paced, chewing his lip raw, rife with worry.  
Nothing to it, he finally decided. He had to talk to Mark and get him to spill on what was going on. Something was off, and his friend needed him.  
He fiddled with his hands, nervous energy overflowing as he rode the elevator to the top floor. He swore his footsteps echoed as he walked down the hallway despite the carpeted floor. And the door to Mark's suite seemed ominously big as he hesitated, wondering what in the hell was making him so scared.  
Of course, he knew. It wasn't just apprehension that made his stomach tremble at the thought of being alone with Mark.  
He forced himself to knock, swallowing his anxiety.  
“Hold on a minute!” Mark's voice called from inside. He heard shuffling around before the door finally creaked open and he had to force away images of a nearly undressed mark fumbling to pull on clothes. “Oh, Jack, hey! Come on in buddy!”  
Jack followed Mark back into the suite, taking a seat on the couch as Mark grabbed some sodas from the mini fridge. He caught one tossed at him, and kept his eyes glued to it, looking anywhere but at Mark.  
“So, what brings you to le suite du Marque?” Mark sat down next to him, turning the TV on low for some background noise. He seemed easy and relaxed, oblivious to the bundle of nerves Jack was.  
“Mark…” Jack finally croaked out, forcing the words from his lips as his throat tried to close around them. “I'm worried about ya. Ya been actin’ weird since yesterday.”  
“Oh.” It was a simple response, unsurprised. “You're not going to let that go, are you?”  
“Of course not. The Markiplier I know would never act the way you been actin’ and it's startin’ to really freak me out.”  
Mark sighed. He turned his face away, staring somewhere at the wall. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Sean.”  
“Try me.”  
Mark was quiet a long time. Jack waited patiently, watching for any sort of reaction. Mark didn't even twitch for a solid thirty seconds, shoulders hunched, the tan skin of his arms glistening with a light sheen of sweat despite the air conditioning blowing steadily, and Jack found himself wondering what it would be like to run his fingers down that skin...  
When Mark turned his face back to Jack, his eyes were bottomless pits of black, and his skin bloomed into impossible shades of monochrome.  
“I suppose you will do.”  
“I- what? Do fer-”  
Jack didn't even get the rest of his sentence out before Mark's right hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. It was cold. Freezing. Jack choked.  
“Pity. He did not want it to be you. He cares about you, his dear friend.” Mark's voice was not his own. It was deeper, darker, more sinister. Jack clawed desperately at the hand on his throat, bewildered as he fought for air.  
“If only you had let well enough alone. Then again, whoever comes through will likely be pleased with you.” The smile on Mark's face was sickeningly lopsided as his free hand came up to brush Jack's cheek. “What lovely eyes you have. And these pretty pink lips…” A finger traced along Jack's lower lip, and he couldn't help but shiver at the strange intimacy. “Yes, you will make a fine specimen.”  
Jack continued to struggle, though now he was struggling more with his own consciousness than the hand cutting off his airflow. The world was dimming.  
“Sleep now.” A final squeeze.  
And Jack blacked out.

Darkness pressed in on him, forcing itself down his throat and into his lungs. He choked on it, unable to breath, lungs burning. There was nothing. Nothing but empty silence. No feeling, no hearing, no seeing, just plain nothing, as if his senses had been completely shut off. Nothing but the void.  
The void and the unsettling pit in his stomach that told him he wasn't alone.  
This is it, Jack thought. I'm dead and gone to hell. Just waiting on some demon to come for me.  
As if in response to his thoughts, a burst of maniacal laughter came from everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere, and he found himself attempting to cover his ears but unable to move.  
“Nah, this ain't hell. But yer gonna wish it was soon, bet. Whew, only been here a minute or two and I've already seen the nasty things goin’ on in here. Yer a dirty, dirty boy.”  
From the darkness formed a man. A man wearing Jack's face, but somehow… Different. Toxically green eyes accompanied by sharp teeth, and a laugh that chilled to the bone. This was no man. This thing wearing Jack's mirror image was a demon. Evil.  
And quite possibly insane.  
“Not what I expected. Yer a bit scrappy.” The demon came closer to him, and the void which had until now felt like nothing became terrifyingly cold. It sniffed him, breathing in like Jack smelled delicious. “Aw, are ya scared?”  
“Who are you?” Jack forced out, teeth threatening to chatter over his words in abject terror. “And what do ya mean you've seen the things goin’ on in here?”  
“I'm gonna be you!” The thing cackled again, full of malicious glee. “Finally gettin’ outta- well, not like you'd understand. But I've seen yer thoughts. Yer little… Fantasies. About yer 'friend’ here.”  
Jack swallowed hard. No one knew. No one knew how he felt, he'd made sure of it. But this thing… it definitely knew. And that was horrifying. “What's happening to me?”  
“Just takin’ some time ta good and infect ya.”  
“Infect?”  
“Yep.” The demon's eyes lit up and he grinned, vicious teeth on display. “Hey hey, what's it like ta kill a human?”  
“What the hell?!”  
“Boo, you don't know?” Its eyes opened wider, smile growing even larger. “Wanna find out?”  
“No!!” Panic was settling into Jack's chest. “What's wrong with you?!”  
“Oho, I'm actually glad I got you, then. This'll be fun. Ta cover yer little virgin hands in blood.”  
“Dear God…” Jack whispered, nausea roiling in his stomach. “This must be a nightmare. It has ta be.”  
“I guess ye'll find out, wont'cha?” The thing hummed happily, tapping a foot. “I think that's about enough time, don't you?”  
“What're ya gonna do ta me?”  
“Well…” Malice dripped from the thing as its eyes fixated on Jack. “Was just gonna put ya ta sleep for a while, but… might be more fun to keep ya awake.”  
“Sean…” Jack muttered to himself. “Wake up. Fer the love of God, wake up!”  
“Nah, I'll be the one wakin’ up now. You just get ta watch.” The outline of the Jack-thing was beginning to fade, and that scared real Jack more than anything. “You just kick back and enjoy the ride, Jacky-boy.”  
“Sto-”  
The word echoed into nothingness as the thing disappeared, and Jack opened his eyes in a body he couldn't control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually already mostly through the next chapter and will probably have it posted by the end of the night... not like anyone cares, but anyyyyyway!


	4. Blood

“Oh, of all the…”  
Bright green eyes slid open. He wormed his way through the body, sinking down into every nerve, every muscle fiber. He breathed, tasting the air, smelling a hint of woodsmoke and cologne, turning, twisting, taking control. He felt the little Irishman locked away inside of him, attempting to fight him, but there was nothing he could do. The infection took hold quickly, and it was over. His lips… And they were now his lips, weren't they? His lips cracked open in a grin.  
“Of all the ones to come over, it had to be you.”  
Oh, someone was talking. He tilted his head to the side, slowly, letting his new eyes focus on the man sitting next to him.  
“Well, well…” he droned, momentarily pausing to savor the sound of his voice. “If it ain't Dark. What did this one usually say? Top o’ the mornin’ to ya? Though I guess it's not really mornin’, now, is it?”  
“Anti.”  
“Guess you brought me over, then?”  
“Unfortunately. How is it you? Why not Nil, or someone… anyone… Else?”  
“I was around,” Anti leered at dark. “Right place, right time. You found yerself a good one didn't'cha?” His eyes roamed Dark's body approvingly as he stretched, acclimating to this flesh.  
“I was around,” Dark repeated back to him with a wan smile and raised eyebrow. His deep voice seemed almost bitter.  
“Ya know, it almost sounds like yer not terribly happy to see yer colleague, Dark.” Anti scratched absently at his neck, a mocking grin playing on his lips. “I'm hurt.”  
“You are… notoriously difficult to work with. And notoriously violent.”  
Anti shrugged and pushed himself forward, stretching his legs and cracking his back. “All jest because I like ta have a little fun?”  
“Did he fight you?” Dark changed the subject, scoffing at Anti's flippant attitude.  
“Didn't give him too much of a chance. What, did yers?”  
“Not at all.” A stiff smile. “I convinced him our partnership was mutually beneficial.”  
“'Partnership’?” Anti snorted. “Since when is this a partnership? I just told mine he was goin’ ta watch while I have my way with everything he has.” Anti leaned towards Dark conspiratorially, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I left him awake.”  
Dark seemed unimpressed. “Cruel, rash, and unnecessary. Barely here a few minutes and you are already a thorn in my side. We do not need them privy to our... activities.”  
“But it's fun! Even now, he's in here screamin’ to be let out. I'm learnin’ a few new cusses from 'em, too.”  
Dark inhaled sharply, looking as if he'd smelled something rotten. “Regardless, there are things to discuss.”  
“Yup.” Anti was obviously not paying attention. A small knife twirled idly in his fingers, and he stared at it, fascinated. “Hey, didja know my knives would come with? I didn't!”  
“Anti, focus. There are things you should know. Firstly, they can be much more difficult to control during daylight hours, so it is best you return somewhere neutral before they awaken. Or in your case, before he wrests control from you. Secondly, you will probably have some sort of reaction from the body; I am not sure how it will react to a sudden takeover, as mine was done far more gracefully and gently.”  
“Boring!” Anti interrupted, hopping off the couch onto wobbly legs. He gripped the arm to steady himself, finding his feet. “When do we get to the blood?”  
“There will be no blood,” Dark thundered, standing as well. His few extra inches of height might have intimidated a lesser man, but Anti… Anti just giggled wildly.  
“Of course there'll be blood! What, did ya think I came over just to fulfill some agenda? I came fer me. I came fer blood, fer death, fer destruction.”  
Suddenly, Dark's fist smashed into Anti's cheek, and he flew backwards into the wall, crumpling into the floor. Red and blue auras broke away from Dark's body, sizzling around him in rage.  
“You will listen to me, little glitch,” he commanded, voice suddenly loud and echoing. “Or the only blood shed will be yours.”  
“That a promise?” Anti asked sweetly, pulling himself to a crouch and wiping a little blood from his lip. A bruise was already beginning to dye his pale cheek purple. The crazed shine of his eyes intensified as he cackled. “You can't threaten me, Dark! I'm out now, and I'm gonna have a goddamn ball!” He pulled himself to his feet, finally getting the hang of his body.  
“You have a mission, and you-”  
“Fuck that!” Anti spat. His beloved knives materialized between his fingers. “Maybe I'll start by cuttin’ **you** up a bit!”  
“Try it. This body is far more powerful than yours.”  
“Might be true…” He toyed with the knife in his right hand. “But this one's faster!”  
Before he had time to react, Anti threw three knives at Dark; the first two sailed right past him harmlessly, dissolving into thin air after missing their target. The third, however, buried itself in his right shoulder.  
Dark let out a monstrous growl, eyes locking on the dagger in his shoulder. His disconnected auras hissed wildly around him as he slowly brought his left hand up to grasp its handle. With grunts of both pain and unbridled rage, he pulled it out, and it disappeared as its blade touched the air.  
“ANTI,” he roared. But Anti was gone.  
And now Dark had a problem. Nevermind the stinging pain of the knife wound in his shoulder or Mark’s blood dripping down his arm.  
Anti was fucking gone. And he was going to ruin everything.

Atlanta was a city that never slept. Despite the late hour, lights illuminated every inch of the city streets, and the sidewalks were still crowded with all sorts of people. Some were con-goers, others passersby, but they swarmed and undulated as if the crowd as a whole were one living beast. Even the slight drizzle of rain was not enough to deter the people there from going about their businesses.  
Anti indulged every sense his new body had. Flashing signs, streetlights, car headlights bounced off his bright green eyes. He felt the concrete and asphalt beneath his feet, slick with rain that reflected every particle of light that touched it. The wind brushed the exposed skin of his face, and even though he wore a hoodie, he shivered, letting out a low chuckle of mad joy. Multiple languages assaulted his ears… English, Spanish, possibly some sort of Asian language? He couldn’t tell. There were so many humans it was hard to distinguish one from another. The smells of motor oil, gas, body odor, and perfume hung permanently in the air.  
He was searching.  
“Hey, isn’t that Jacksepticeye?!”  
“Holy shit, dude, it is! Jack! JACK!”  
Fuck. He’d forgotten his body’s relatively high-profile career. Of course he’d be recognized around the hotel where the con was hosted. He turned his face away and ran. Didn’t need anyone seeing his changed eyes and knowing something was wrong.  
He splashed through puddles collecting on sidewalks, running as far from the hotel as he could; away from the nicer parts of town, towards the darker areas. He nearly caused several frustrated drivers to crash into him. Even though he needed to run, needed to get away from so many people, he couldn’t help but to stop and laugh in excitement each time a car barely avoided colliding with him. So this was being alive. This was being human.  
This was intoxicating.  
As he drew further away from the bright lights and into the more broken areas of town, weeds began to spring up between the cracks in the sidewalks. Buildings were boarded up and in disrepair. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he had been going, and though the people had thinned out, the ones that remained grew rougher-looking. Eyes that were almost as sharp as his own gazed at him from the shadows. Women in skimpier clothes wandered about. He passed sleazier and sleazier bars until he was squarely in the district of drugs and strip clubs.  
This would work.  
“Ohmigod!” A feminine voice startled him from his thoughts. He found himself standing at the mouth of a grimy alley between a strip club and a Waffle House. A woman in barely more than a bikini stood against the brick wall of the club, a cigarette trickling smoke in her hand. She looked almost as surprised as he felt. “Oh my goodness, are you alright? You look like five miles of bad road, honey!”  
He said nothing, just tilted his head to the side to study her. Young, blond, but decidedly world-weary. Pock-marked face… drugs? Her body said early 20’s, but her eyes held the exhaustion of the elderly.  
“You mute?” She dropped the cigarette and ground it into the asphalt with the toe of her ridiculously tall heels. Ah, a pretty southern accent, how cute… “Sweetie, you’ve got a bruise the size of Texas on your face. DId you get robbed?”  
Anti reached up and touched the place Dark had punched him. Bastard. He’d make him pay later. But for now, he focused back on the girl. Locking eyes with her, he stepped closer.  
“Not much of a talker, are you?” She patted the wall beside her. “I can’t let you into the club if you’re not paying, but the wall is mostly dry and I’ve got a few minutes before I’m on again.”  
Naive. He pressed his back against the wall beside her.  
“Damn, them’s some bright green eyes you’ve got. Do you not speak English?”  
“I speak it,” he said, grinning widely. The sparse light glinted off his sharp teeth.  
“Oh, you’ve got an accent! Are you, um, let me guess… Scottish?”  
“Irish.”  
“Eh, close enough. What’re you doing all the way out here?”  
“Lookin’ fer you.”  
She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. “Wait… are you Rico’s new guy? I ain’t… I ain’t got your money yet, b-b-but I should if this shift goes well!”  
The shift in her demeanor from open to terrified was… delicious.  
“I don’t want money.”  
“Oh,” she paused, the panic level in her eyes receding, replaced with suspicion. “Well, then, who the fuck are you and what do you want?”  
Anti didn’t answer. Instead, he loomed closer, looking down at her as he backed her into a corner. She started whimpering as he pulled the knife from his pocket, her eyes locking on it in realization.  
“Oh God, no…” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, shaking. “No, I… please… please don’t hurt me! I don’t want to die!”  
He traced the tip of his knife along her trembling jaw. “Where should I cut ya first…?”  
“Please…” she whined. “Please don’t, I’ll do anyth-”  
He didn’t let her finish. His knife sliced cleanly into her throat.  
She gurgled on blood, her knees giving out. He caught her with an arm around her back, chuckling as he watched her struggle in his arms. Blood spurted from the wound in time with the beating of her heart. He felt the warmth land on his face and hands.  
Warm. So warm.  
And he couldn’t help himself.  
He dropped her shuddering body to the ground and plunged the knife into her again. And again. And again. Over and over until blood splattered everywhere. His vision turned red. He was laughing, the metallic taste of her blood on his tongue. He jammed his fingers into her wounds, twisting them in the meat of her muscles, laughing, laughing, laughing…  
And from the confines of his prison, Jack watched. Jack watched in horror. If he could’ve, he would’ve thrown up. The voice he thought he had refused to come out; he couldn’t even protest what this monster was doing with his body.  
And Anti knew.  
He lifted his crimson-stained hands up in front of his eyes, giving his captive a good view of the innocent blood on his hands.  
_You sick bastard!_ Jack thought as loudly as he could, hoping his screams were, at the very least, an annoyance to Anti. But still, Anti laughed, pleased with his work.  
The knife dissipated as Anti stared down at the mangled corpse, the wide grin never leaving his face. The alley was splashed with red.  
_Someone’s gonna find her, and we’ll both go ta prison!_ Jack was screaming again. _I know you can hear me, ya bastard!_  
“No one’s gonna give two shites about a dead druggie stripper,” Anti muttered to no one in particular. As he inhaled the coppery scent of her blood, he looked up at the sky. “Oh, look! The sun’s risin’! Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, laddie! Guess it’s time for ya to wake up!”  
_Don’t you dare… don’t leave me here… not with… no!_  
“Wakey, wakey…” Anti whispered.  
And disappeared into the back of Jack’s mind.

Blue eyes gazed down at the mess in front of him. The mess that had once been a human being. The mess he - no, Anti, - had made.  
And Jack screamed, hands trembling.  
He stumbled out of the alley, vomiting stomach acid at its mouth. No one was there to witness the blood spattered Irishman shudder, distraught, as tears began to flow from his eyes.  
A woman was dead, and he was covered in her blood.  
No, he had to pull himself together! He had to get back to Mark! Mark had something in him too! They’d figure it out together, and…! And….! Somehow, he’d…. Make up for the poor girl’s death. He wiped the worst of the blood from his face and glanced back towards the alley.  
“I’m so… so… sorry…” He whispered, stumbling away towards whatever direction he thought the hotel might be. Anywhere away from there.  
He pulled his hoodie tight around him, raising his hood to hide his bloody face and the tears that wouldn’t stop.  
He couldn’t think of anything but the dead girl’s face.  
Jack was a murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't promise any sort of update schedule, as I'm a sporadic writer, but hopefully the inspiration lasts... we'll see!


	5. Aftermath

Mark awoke in the morning with a stinging, aching pain in his right shoulder. He hissed as he sat up in bed, bewildered.  
 _Just a small scuffle, no need to worry._  
“A small scuffle?” Mark massaged the bandaged shoulder as he muttered to himself. “What in the world happened?”  
 _A...friend._   
“I'm not getting any more answers out of you, am I?”  
No answer from the voice in his head.  
“Thought so.” Mark sighed as he peeled himself out of bed. With some difficulty, he pulled on a shirt and some shorts, mentally going over the last thing he remembered before he… fell asleep? He didn't even remember going to bed. He remembered…  
He remembered Jack. He remembered Jack coming over, and sitting on the couch with him. And Jack was saying… He was worried. And Mark had meant to reassure him everything was fine, but he couldn't remember doing it.  
No, wait! He was going to tell Jack everything! About Dark, about the strange things that happened when he passed out…  
 _But we argued._  
Right. Mark had gotten into an argument with Dark in his head. And… He'd lost the argument. After that, everything went black.  
“Did you… Did you take over my body?!”  
Again, Dark was silent.  
Angry, Mark marched out of the bedroom. He intended to unwrap his shoulder in the bathroom and take a good look at whatever was stinging like a bitch, but before he could get there, he saw a small figure huddled on his couch.  
Jack.  
“Jack!” He ran to his friend. “Is everything… oh holy hell, what happened to you?!”  
Jack's clothes were covered in blood. His knees were pulled up against his chest, arms wrapped around them, and every inch of him was splattered with blood. The coppery smell filled the room. Mark felt panic ride in his throat.  
“Oh shit, are you hurt?! Where are you hurt? Should I call 911? I'm gonna call 911, just hang on buddy!”   
As Mark spun around to go grab his phone, Jack's hand reached out and caught him by the hem of his shirt.  
“Mark…” Jack's voice was broken, cracked. He looked up at Mark with tear-filled eyes. “'M fine, it's not mine…”  
Mark blinked, confused. There was too much going on, and he couldn't process it all at once. Dark wasn't helping; he could feel the demon moving inside him, interest piqued. He took a deep breath and flopped onto the couch next to Jack.  
“Okay, I don't know what's happening anymore. What the hell is going on?”  
“I don't know, man, I don't know. But some awful shit’s goin’ down and I don't know what's happening. I don't know anymore. Oh, God fuckin’ dammit, I don't fuckin’ know!” Jack was panting, near hyperventilation, hysterical.  
“Jesus, okay, hold on a minute, back up… can we start at the beginning? I can't remember anything past you coming up and telling me you were worried…”  
“He put you ta sleep?” Jack looked at Mark with wide, blood-shot eyes, puffed and sore from crying. “You don't… You weren't… you don't remember anything?”  
Mark shook his head. He reached out, wanting to pat his friend's shoulder, but slowly withdrew his hand from Jack's bloody hoodie. “Start at the beginning, okay? We'll, um… we'll work through it, together!”  
“Mark, there's somethin’ evil inside you. Inside me. Both of us. I don't know what it is, what they are, but… but Mark…” Jack choked on a sob, unable to continue for the moment.  
“Inside me? You mean… Dark? You… You met him?”  
Jack nodded pitifully. Mark clenched his jaw.  
 _I tried to avoid it. But he knew something was different. Besides, would you not rather go through this with a friend?_  
Mark let out a lot growl at the voice in his head.  
“Does he talk ta ya? When yer awake?”  
Slowly, apprehensively, Mark nodded. “Ever since that first day, with the weirdo girl, he's been with me… In me…” He gazed at Jack, looking so small and broken on the couch, and felt his heart break.  
“Mark, I'm a murderer.”  
“I… You… Wait, what?”  
“You put something in me. And now I'm a murderer.”  
Mark gaped, mouth working though nothing came out.  
 _Anti… damn him…_  
Jack sobbed, turning his face away in shame. “But...This's my fault... I should've… should've fought harder… stopped him… Somehow…”  
Mark let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Bloody clothes be damned, he pulled Jack into a fierce hug.  
“It's not your fault, Sean. There wasn't anything you could do.” He gently ran his fingers through Jack's tangled hair, trying his best to comfort the little Irishman.  
Jack wept into Mark's bandaged shoulder. Wept for that girl, her family, the blood on his hands. He wept for the gravity of Anti's actions, wept for the innocence that was snuffed out… his innocence, and hers.  
And he wept for Mark.  
“I did this ta you,” Jack murmured, gently touching Mark's shoulder. “Er, Anti, at least. He… he likes knives…”  
“And here I'd thought I'd been bitten by a vampire. That's way less interesting.” Mark let go of Jack and grinned at him as goofily as he could manage.  
“Vampires bite necks, Mark.” A small smile finally broke on Jack's face, though it didn't reach his eyes.  
“Maybe it was blind!”  
“What'm I gonna do? What the hell am I gonna do?” Jack only let himself be distracted by Mark's antics for a few seconds before he was drawn back into himself. Before the glazed eyes of the dead girl took over his mind again.  
“Well…” Mark thought for a moment. “Today's the last day of the con. Not sure about you, but I'm flying home tomorrow. Maybe… Maybe going home will help?”  
 _In Anti's case… unlikely._  
“Are ya crazy?!” Jack stared up at him with wide eyes. “We can't go home! Not like this! Not with these... things… inside us! What's ta stop em from hurtin’ our friends there? Our families?”  
“Shit…” Mark muttered. “I hadn't thought of that… damn… Well, what's your idea then?”   
“We stay until we figure this- hurk!” Jack suddenly made a loud gagging noise, clasping his hand around his mouth.  
“Jack?! Are you okay?!”  
Jack waved off Mark with his free hand, but he only got a few seconds of relief before he was tearing off to the bathroom to hurl the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Nothing but stomach acid came up. He sank down to his knees, hugging the cool porcelain.  
He was burning.  
“Jesus, Jack, are you alright?” Mark stood in the bathroom doorway, concern apparent on his face.   
“ 'M in hell…” Jack muttered. “ It's so hot… must be in hell…”  
Mark leaned down and felt Jack's forehead. It was hot, insanely hot.  
“You're running a fever. We should… we should get you into bed…”  
Jack vomited again. The tiled floor felt so good, so cool against his flaming skin. He vaguely heard Mark rummaging around under the sink, then the sound of water running.  
And then a cool cloth pressed against his face.  
“Let's get you out of these bloody clothes,” Mark said gently, rubbing the remnants of blood off Jack's face. “You can wear some of mine. We'll… Figure this all out later.”  
Jack felt weak. He attempted to remove his hoodie, but his limbs weren't exactly moving the way he wanted them to, and Mark ended up doing most of the work, stripping Jack down to his boxers. Slowly, he got Jack to his feet, and guided him to the bed. And Jack fell face first into the soft mattress, hands clawing limply for blankets as he alternated between sweating and chattering.  
Mark covered Jack in the blankets he himself had used just the night before, wiping the sweat away from his friend’s brow. He held the cloth against Jack’s burning head, sitting by his side on the edge of the bed.  
“Markimoo…” Jack said weakly, cracking an eye open to look up at Mark.   
“Yeah, Jack?”  
“Thank you… fer… bein’ here fer me…” The words were coming slower as Jack began to fade into unconsciousness.  
Mark chuckled softly. “Of course, buddy.”  
And then Jack was snoring softly, deathly still under the mound of blankets, pale face in stark contrast to the dark fabrics on the bed.  
Mark sighed, wiping the last of the sweat from Jack’s temple, then quickly deserted the room to sit back on the coach they’d originally been on. He needed to think, try to figure out what was going on. And he needed answers from Dark.  
 _What do you wish to know?_  
“Are you actually going to tell me anything?” Mark muttered under his breath. Dark could probably hear him just as well if he thought at him, but something about speaking out loud, preserving that part of his sanity, felt more cathartic.  
There came that familiar rumble, like a torrent of smoke, that made up Dark’s amused laughter.  
 _Perhaps._  
“What are you?”  
 _Not of this world._  
“That answers so many questions, thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from Mark’s words. He sctratched his chin, carefully trying to decide how best to phrase questions to actually get answers from Dark. “What’s inside Jack?”  
 _Not what, but who. His name is Anti, and he is dangerous._  
“I got that, considering how Jack showed up in my suite covered in blood saying Anti made him a murderer. Did he actually make Jack… kill someone?”  
 _Likely._  
“Why are you here?”  
Silence. Mark could still feel Dark there, but he maintained radio silence. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.   
“Okay, obviously that one didn’t work… so it seems to me we’d both like to prevent Anti killing anybody else. So I guess we should work together on this one. I’ll have to figure out how to get rid of you-”  
 _You will not find the answer._  
“Right, as I was saying, I’ll have to figure out how to get rid of you later. Can you… can you take over me at will?  
 _For very short amounts of time, unless you purposefully give me control. Though I don’t expect that from you. But once night falls… when you sleep…_  
“It’ll be Dark.”  
 _Yes._  
“Same with Anti?”  
 _I doubt Anti can wrest control from your friend at all during waking hours. In fact, it is likely he sleeps then. But at night, yes, it is Anti’s domain._  
“So how do we stop him from going on another rampage? I don’t think Jack can handle any more. Hell, I don’t know if I can handle any more. It’s bizarre. All of it.” Mark let out a long sigh, sinking into the couch. His mind spun at a million miles a minute, yet he was no closer to figuring anything out. He felt lost, at the mercy of the suave demon in his head.  
 _I have an idea…_  
“Well?”  
 _Have you got any rope?_  
“No? That’s not something people usually carry around with them, you weirdo...”  
 _Belts, then?_  
“A couple, yeah...:”  
 _That will work, I suppose. Flip him onto his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. I will ensure he does not leave this room._  
There was an undercurrent of some unknown, black emotion in Dark’s thought-speech, but Mark couldn’t quite figure out what it was. At the moment, it didn’t matter. If Dark could keep Anti from killing anybody else, maybe he was good for something. This, at least.  
For Jack’s sake.   
_It will be Dark soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone up for some Danti smut? I'll provide in the next chapter, promise <3


	6. Primal*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made quite a few edits to Chapter Two, so if you've already read it, you might want to reread it so this flows a little better.
> 
> This is pretty much just pure smut and could probably even be skipped once I finish with this... thing... but I like writing smut. So there.
> 
> I've put a star in the chapter title to warn for smut, since most of the smut chapters will probably be skip-able.

Anti opened his eyes and quickly took in his surroundings.  
His head head was pressed cheek-to-pillow, and he was warm. On his stomach, under covers, most likely. He was wearing considerably less clothing than when he’d left Jack, and he wasn’t quite sure where he’d ended up. But he felt comfortable enough, so it must be a bed of some sort. He went to push himself up and found he couldn’t move his arms.  
His arms… were tied with belts behind his back.  
Shit.  
“So, you are awake.”  
Oh, _shit._  
Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man in the doorway. He was back in the hotel suite. Of _course_ Jack would come back here. Maybe just up and leaving him in control hadn’t been the best of ideas…  
But the panic and disgust Jack had felt as he left him alone with the corpse was worth it. His suffering was positively delicious.  
“I believe I told you there would be no blood.” Dark had stepped closer to the bed. He was clad in nothing but a long bathrobe that stood in stark white contrast to his grey skin. The pools of black that passed for his eyes were intense and focused on Anti’s face. “I believe I told you you had a mission.”  
“And I believe I told ya ta fuck right off,” Anti sang back to him, singsong. He giggled, squirming around in the belts that held him captive. “Ya know, I think it’s typical human custom ta do dinner or somethin’ before one of us gets tied up in bed.” Anti again tried to lift his upper body.  
And Dark’s hand slammed into his back, pushing between his shoulder blades, holding him back down, pressing him into the bed. Waves of cold rolled off his skin, and Anti could feel the static from Dark’s detached auras crawl across him. He was angry.  
“This is no game, Anti,” he growled, his voice distorting in his rage. “You need to infect the next person. We need more of us. More on this side.”  
“Nah,” Anti answered nonchalantly. “I weren’t shite on the other side. Why would I bring more of us over here to lord over me? I’d rather play.”  
“By killing humans?” Dark pressed down harder, fingers beginning to bite into Anti’s back.  
“It’s lots o’ fun, you should try it.” Anti fell silent for a moment, feeling the gradually increasing pressure of Dark’s hand on his back. A small, barely perceptible shiver ran down his spine. “So, yer big plan ta stop me was ta tie me up with belts? Did ya think that’d last until I sleep again?”  
“No,” Dark replied, voice growing deeper as he removed his hand from Anti’s back. He was still emanating rage, but there was something else there. Some other primal emotion that leaked out of him. “I am going to keep you here all night by any means necessary.”  
“And what means’re those?”  
“I think you know.” Anti watched as Dark undid the robe’s belt and let it slide off his shoulders. He was bare except for slim-fitting boxers. Dark’s eyes locked with Anti’s. He showed no emotion at all, just a grim resolution on his face. “I am going to fuck you into this bed. All night if I have to.”  
Anti stared dumbfounded at the scantily-clad man in front of him, slowly processing what he’d just said. Suddenly, he let out a loud cackle as realization dawned on him. “Oh, this’s rich! Gonna satisfy my primal urges, Darky-boy?” This was fantastic. He needed to wake Jack. Jack needed to see what was about to happen; more delicious angst from his captive host would make his day.  
“Do not mistake this for something I am doing willingly or something I will enjoy. I know how you work. Raw emotion is what drives you. Rage, pain, fear…”  
“Lust,” Anti finished for him, wide, crooked grin on his face.  
“Yes.”  
“Awww, Darky-dark, if ye wanted ta fuck me, all ya had ta do was ask.” Anti was cooing, words ending in a nearly seductive purr.  
“Shut up,” Dark growled, pushing Anti face down into the bed again. “If I hear anything more than screams from you, I will gag you.”  
“Kinky,” Anti mumbled deliriously into the sheets. He’d already turned his attention inward, feeling about in his host’s mind for the spark of consciousness he knew was there somewhere, sleeping.  
_”Oh, Jackaboy… I have a surprise for you…”_  
He felt the owner of his body jerk awake in confusion, and then sink into a sullen awareness of who was in control.  
_What do ya want? Want to show me another murder, ya psychopath?_  
_”Oh, no, I’m not all evil. Somethin’s about ta happen and ya might even enjoy it, so I’ll be nice fer once and let ya feel it along with me. How’s that sound?”_  
_Feel what, exactly…?_  
The fear in Jack’s thoughts made Anti shiver in pleasure. He turned his head to the side to get another eyeful of Dark, letting Jack see through the windows of his own traitor eyes.  
_What in the fuck…? Why’s Dark half-naked?_  
_”Good guess, Jackie! See, not sure how much of Dark’s plan ta keep me here he told to yer little friend, but I’m bettin’ Mark agreed to tie ya up just ta prevent me from havin’ anymore fun. Maybe he was naive enough ta think Dark was just gonna watch me, eh?”_  
_What is happenin?_  
_”We’re about to get fucked, Jack. It’s not killin’ stuff but not really a bad way ta spend a night.”_  
Anti chuckled wildly as he felt Jack’s thoughts flutter and short circuit as he tried to process what was about to happen.  
And those thoughts shattered into incoherent pieces as both Anti and Jack felt Dark’s cold fingers gripping the back of their calves.  
He had climbed onto the bed without so much as a grunt and hung over Anti’s back. Cold hands squeezed Anti’s calves, pressing the pads of his fingers into his pale skin. It was an odd mixture of both rough and tender as slowly he squeezed his way up the back of Anti’s legs.  
Dark didn’t even seem to be breathing.  
He swiped a quick finger across the back of Anti’s knees, and the ticklish sensation sent a shiver up Anti’s spine. He twitched.  
“Are you ticklish here?” Dark murmured, his face suddenly very close to the bend of Anti’s knee. His breath ghosted across the sensitive skin there, sending more shudders up Anti’s spine.  
“Apparently,” Anti answered breathlessly, reveling in the sensations and the incoherent babbling of Jack in the back of his mind.  
“Interesting.” Dark pressed his cold lips to the back of Anti’s knee and drug his stifling tongue across the flesh. Anti let out a small squeak.  
_No no no no God please no…_  
Dark continued to kiss the back of Anti’s knee, while has hands wandered further up his legs. He dug his nails into the soft meat of Anti’s thighs, and Anti gasped again.  
“Get on with it, Dark,” Anti muttered impatiently, wiggling. “I thought ya said ya were gonna fuck me, not… whatever the fuck this is.”  
He heard Dark chuckle amusedly as he pulled his lips away. “As you wish.”  
And then both his hands grabbed fistfuls of Anti’s ass, and Anti let out a strange noise while Jack screamed in his head.  
The cold air sent goosebumps up Anti's back as he felt his boxers being pulled off, down his legs, and off of his feet to be thrown somewhere across the room.  
_I'm naked… Mark's seein’ me naked…_  
“Already erect, Anti?” Anti was startled by Dark's voice right next to his left ear; he'd been too busy reveling in Jack's panic to even register that Dark had moved.  
“Oh… guess I am, eh?” He smirked. “Maybe it's been a while for ol’ Jacky here. Or maybe he likes ya.”  
The low rumble of Dark's chuckle in his ear, feeling his warm breath tickle him, sent sparks down into Anti's erection, and he pressed his hips into the bed, trying to create a little friction. Dark was still kneading his ass, but now his mouth was occupied with sucking a hickey into Anti's neck.  
_I'm hard. Oh God, why 'm I hard? I Don't want this, not with you, not with him..._  
_”Feels good, doesn't it, Jackaboy?”_ Anti paused the mental torture of his host to pointedly let out a soft moan as Dark bit into his shoulder. _”Don't lie, I know ya like it. You want this, don't ya? Wanna feel Mark's cock in yer tight little asshole?”_  
_No no no no no no! He's ma best friend! Friends… Don't do this with each other…_  
_“No?”_ Anti pushed his hips down again, partially to urge Dark to hurry it up and partially to make a point to Jack. _“Ya got hard real quick as soon as Dark started touchin’ ya. C'mon, Jack, be honest. You like him, don'tcha? Don't forget, I can hear yer thoughts. I know how ya feel. I watched yer dirty little fantasy of him when I got in yer head.”_  
_I'm not gay, and neither is Mark._  
_“Who said anything about being gay? So hung up on logistic shit...”_ Anti let out a small gasp as Dark reached around his body and found his hard nipples being pressed into the bed, tugging them gently. _“Jus’ let it feel good.”_  
_I can't! I won't! This… This isn't right… he can't know, I never said anyth-_  
The stream of panicked thoughts from Jack stopped as soon as they both feel Dark's finger push against his entrance. It was cold and wet. He must've lubed up while Anti was occupied with Jack.  
_Please stop, Anti. Please make him stop._  
Anti didn't bother answering Jack. He only let out a long hissing breath as Dark slipped a finger inside of him, pushing through the ring of muscles that tried to keep him out.  
“Tight…” Dark murmured absently, beginning to slowly thrust his finger. “This body is… unused.”  
Anti shivered slightly, biting his lips with sharp teeth until he tasted blood to stop himself from whimpering. And he let Jack feel every thrust along with him.  
His cock pushed uncomfortably against the mattress, already leaking. He could feel the damp spot forming under him. And he only got harder as Dark pushed a second finger in. He could feel himself twitch, uncontrollable. He reflexively tugged at the belts trapping his arms. Dark pushed in a third finger.  
And then he found that spot, and Anti let out a yelp of pleasure.  
He pressed his face into the bed. He didn't want to see the arrogant smirk he knew Dark had on his face. He bit his lips even harder, but the assault on his prostate sent tingles all over his body and he couldn't stop the whines coming from his lips.  
“C'mon, Dark!” He finally cried, lifting his head off the bed as he pushed his hips back, drilling himself into Dark's fingers. “Jus’ fuck me already!”  
_No no no, please, I can't, I've held back so long, he can't know, he can't, he can't, he can't, he'll hate me, please don't. Please don't let him know, please._  
Anti laughed, letting it spill from his lips as it echoed in his head. Dark grabbed his hips, pulling his ass into the air and leaving him feeling empty from the loss of fingers.  
He lost his voice when Dark rammed into him.  
It wasn’t kind or gentle. Dark had taken enough care to prep this body so they wouldn’t hurt it, but the way he forced himself inside was violent, hateful, full of spite. And Anti loved it. The absolute pain that spread through him from the point of impact felt like electricity, and his hands clawed at the belts restraining them reflexively.  
“Take it, little glitch,” Dark was growling, primal lust oozing from his every movement as he pushed. “Take all of this inside you. Take all of it and fucking BEHAVE.”  
“More,” Anti croaked. “Give me more.” Jack sobbed incoherently in his mind, confused from the pain and pleasure Anti let him feel.  
“I will own you,” Dark grunted. True to his word, he thrusted. Forceful and commanding, he thrust into Anti with the fervor only a demon could possibly possess. Their flesh made lewd noises as they slammed together, over and over.  
Anti moaned, flooded with sensations. He couldn’t have stopped Jack from feeling this even if he had wanted to. Jack squeaked with innocence in his head, while Anti wailed like a wanton whore, pushing his hips back onto Dark’s cock to get as much of him inside as possible. Not killing, but definitely something he wouldn’t mind repeating.  
Dark shifted, angling himself differently, and pushed himself in again.  
There. Oh, _there._  
“Fuck!” Anti cried out, trembling as Dark hit his prostate again head on. He could hear Dark chuckling behind him. He pulled out nice and slow before once again ramming back in.  
Sparks flew behind Anti’s eyes as Dark fucked him earnestly now, at least every other thrust attacking the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. He couldn’t think well enough for witty banter, or even more torture for Jack. He didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He knew sounds were coming out of his mouth but he wasn’t sure if he was saying anything.  
Dark was barely holding on; every movement stuttered, his hips twitching and trembling as he kept thrusting as hard and fast as Mark’s body would let him. The sound that poured out of him was like a low purr or the idling of an engine, punctuated with occasional grunts of pleasure. Despite his words, it was obvious he was enjoying it himself. Almost as if he’d wanted this. Almost as if-  
Anti’s train of thought stopped as Dark hit his prostate one more time and a brilliant white light filled his head. His ears rang as it tore through him, cock twitching wildly as his cum spurted over the bedsheets. Dark didn’t last much longer, and Anti felt a wild tremor as something mildly cold and wet filled him up.  
Jack trembled in his mind, satiated and disgusted.  
Anti collapsed face first into the bed, panting heavily as Dark pulled out of him. He felt the other’s seed drip slowly down his thighs, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. He just wanted more. And more and more and more.  
“Again,” Anti growled, turning his face to the side to see Dark beside him, covered in sweat and smelling of raw man. “Fuck me again.”  
Dark looked down at him with a wan smile. “As you wish.”

_Mark… Oh God, Mark… please forgive me… please, please forgive me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jack. I love Anti torturing Jack. Am I a terrible person?


	7. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a quarter of the total word count is in this chapter, and nearly all of it is torturing Jack. Also, I wrote about 90% of this on my phone, so there are probably a few autocorrect fails I'll have to fix when I get to my desktop. Sorry!!

Mark woke up to sunshine pouring through the windows. He felt refreshed and clean, hair slightly damp as he uncurled from the comfortable position he'd been laying in bed in. The sheets were missing. Odd.  
He yawned, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He wore nothing but a new set of boxers. Dark must've showered. Also odd.  
He let out a pleased hum as his joints popped in a large stretch. What was today? What had he planned?  
And then it all came crashing back into him. The events of the past few days, why he was still in Atlanta, what was going on.  
The belts he'd used to tie up Anti were laying in the floor. The sight of them abandoned made his heart beat quicken; had he escaped?!  
 _No, he was here all night. I made sure of it._  
“Where is he?”  
 _Likely asleep, though I believe your friend is in the living room._  
Jack! Mark hopped out of bed and threw on the nearest pair of shorts and shirt before rushing into the sitting area to check on Jack.  
And there was Jack on the sofa, arms wrapped around himself in a self-hug, staring blankly at a wall. His eyes were sunken and red, and he looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in ages. He was wearing Mark's clothes; they were obviously too big for him.  
“Jack,” Mark said quietly, sitting next to his friend on the couch. “You look like shit.”  
Jack's head whipped around so fast Mark heard his neck crack. Big blue eyes locked with his. They were full of panic and dried tears, and Mark immediately felt his heart clench.  
“M-m-mark! I….I…. Oh shit, I'm sorry!” Jack was trembling, barely able to get the words out through stuttering lips. “Please, it wasn't me, it was Anti!”  
“Sorry?” Mark scratched his head in bewilderment. He reached out to pat Jack's shoulder, but the little Irishman pulled away quickly before he could. “Did something happen last night?”  
“You… You don't remember? Anythin’ at all?”  
“No. Dark pretty much takes over when night hits. Jesus, you look like hell, what happened?”  
“Nothing? He doesn't let you see… Anythin’?”  
“What is this about, Jack?” He reached out again, finally catching his friend's shoulder in his grasp. Jack was trembling. “Does it have anything to do with the missing bedsheets?”  
The amount of fear and nervous energy that practically rolled off Jack was concerning, to say the least. “Yer really sure ya don't remember anythin’?”  
“Jack.” Mark grabbed his other shoulder and turned Jack to face him head on, catching his bloodshot eyes in a serious stare. “What the hell happened?”  
Jack took a deep breath and gulped, biting his lip. The deep breathing seemed to calm him, and he stopped shaking. “Dark… Dark and Anti… Last night… they uh, uh…” He went quiet, staring anywhere but at Mark's face, as if he was arguing with himself internally. Finally, almost under his breath and nearly too fast for Mark to decipher, he muttered, “...got into another fight.”  
“Oh,” Mark let go of him, puzzled. “Did they get blood on the sheets or something?”  
Jack just nodded, shoulders slumping, though Mark couldn't tell if it was in relief or exhaustion.  
“Why do I feel like there's more to this, Dark?” Mark thought. No answer, though he could feel the demon resident's amusement. It only annoyed him more.  
“Jack…” he said gently, not wanting to pressure his friend. “Is that really all of it?”  
Before he could answer, a small ‘thunk’ at the door distracted them both.  
“Room service's here! I got us breakfast!” Jack jumped off the couch like it was on fire and headed for the door. He was limping slightly.  
“Man, Dark really messed you up, didn't he?” Mark watched as Jack opened the door mechanically, pulling a cart full of random breakfast foods and a newspaper into the room.  
“You have no idea,” Jack muttered, dragging the cart over to the couch, limp even more pronounced as he struggled with the heavy object. Settling back into the couch, he pulled a plate of pancakes towards him. “Let's eat somethin’, I'm starvin’.”  
Mark's stomach rumbled in agreement. “Fair enough.”  
The two munched their food in relative quiet, Mark fiddling through his phone while Jack idly browsing the newspaper. If things had been different, if they hadn't been invaded by these otherworldly things and stuck in an unfamiliar city, it might've been comfortable. They might've joked and laughed, enjoying each other's company.  
But now… Now it was strained. Now it was palpable worry and apprehension, wondering when they'd next lose control.  
Jack suddenly coughed, choking on a bite of pancake as he dropped the newspaper.  
“Mark…” he croaked after clearing his lungs. He pushed the newspaper forward. “Look. Isn't that…?”  
Mark peered over at the newspaper and gasped.  
Staring out of the black-and-white page was a familiar feminine face. He'd never forget that face, the one that started it all. Though it looked different than he remembered. It must've been some sort of school photo; she looked happy, hair neatly arranged around her, eyes bright, smile on her face, healthy weight. No sign of the crazed mania she'd shown back in the convention hall. She looked like any other normal teenage girl.  
But there was no mistaking that face. It was the girl who'd put Dark in him.  
The headline read:

TEEN FOUND DEAD AFTER POPULAR CONVENTION; SUICIDE PRESUMED

Mark swallowed a huge wad of saliva. Quickly, he scanned the article, brain picking out the most important pieces:

“Emily Hyde, 16, was find dead this morning after apparently jumping from the 8th floor of an abandoned office building. A memorial and funeral will be held 10am this Tuesday in her honor at…”

The address meant nothing to him. Not like he would've known where it was, anyway.  
“Jack…” he said quietly, eyes glued to the story. “We have to go to her funeral.”  
Jack choked on his food a second time. “Yer… yer not suggestin’ we crash a damn funeral, Mark… are yah?”  
“Of course not!” Mark glanced up at the little Irishman, noting what appeared to be bite marks on his neck. Jesus, what kind of fight had those two been in? “She was a fan, Jack. Besides… Maybe if we attend, we'll figure out something about… you know… the things in us.”  
Mark could almost feel Dark raise an eyebrow in his mind.   
"I guess… the memorial is tomorrow. What're we gonna do until them?"  
"Research?"  
Jack snorted. "That'll be a productive Google search. What would yah even type? 'Sickness that causes demon possession'?"  
Mark chuckled softly, finishing up his breakfast. He missed home. It had only been a few days, but the thought of having to stay here in this unfamiliar city until he figured out what to do with Dark was disheartening. His phone buzzed with an alert reminding him he hadn't yet checked into his flight. "I guess I'm not getting my money back for that plane ticket," he muttered absently.  
Jack stared at him. Without warning, he burst into laughter. It was that thick, rolling Irish laughter, true laughter from the gut. And it was infectious. Mark began to laugh as well, until that were both doubled over on the couch, barely breathing between uncontrolled peals of giggles. They laughed for the absurdity of it all. For the loss of control of their lives, their very bodies. They laughed to cope with the insanity of the entire situation.   
They laughed because they were helpless to do anything else.  
Mark wiped tears from his eyes as he finally caught his breath. Jack sprawled out on the couch, looking more relaxed than Mark had seen him since the con began. They sat in silence for a few moments, ears ringing at the sudden loss of sound. As he regained focus, Mark's mind began to work.  
"We should deal with the logistical stuff, " he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "You should check out of your room and stay here. I'll let the hotel know I'll be extending my stay."  
"Wait… stay here?" Jack sat up, and the fearful, nervous energy Mark had noted before reared its head again. "I dunno… won't that be awkward?"  
"No? The sofa pulls out, you can sleep out here. And we should really stick together."  
"Yeah, but-"  
"Jack." Mark cut him off, and blue eyes locked with brown. "What has gotten into you? Do you really want to be alone in your room when Anti wakes up? So he can run wild again?"  
Jack chewed his lip, defeated. "...no."  
"Then grab your stuff and check out before they charge you for another day. You need help getting it up here?"  
"Nah," Jack sighed, dragging himself off the couch. "T'ain't much to grab. I'll just… I'll be right back. In a few."  
Mark watched as Jack walked out of the room mechanically, obviously caught up in his own head.   
"What the hell is up with him?" he thought at the demon in his head. There was no response, but Mark knew he was listening. And for once, Dark had no answer for him.

Jack was cursing himself as he left the suite. Act just a little more suspicious, Jack! He sighed, trudging the hallways to the elevator, thoughts swirling in his head. What was he going to do about last night? He couldn't let Mark find out what they'd… what he'd done. If he knew, he'd hate him, Jack was sure. He'd be so disgusted, he'd want nothing to do with him. And Jack couldn't handle that, not now, not during this shitstorm. Never mind his feelings, being left alone with Anti was a terrible idea. His heart clenched. He knew he wasn't going to tell Mark. Not in a million years. He'd take it to his grave, that he'd felt every inch of his friend inside of him, that he'd enjoyed every second of it and would probably dream about it for the rest of hls life. It was sweet torture, knowing that feeling but in such a twisted capacity.   
No, Mark could never know. And he wasn't going to tell him. But what about Dark? Would he? Was he whispering in Mark's head now, poisoning their comfortable relationship with the details of Jack's sin? It had been Anti in control, but Jack had been there, and he'd loved it. Nausea washed over him as he thought about his transgression. It was a filthy, one-sided pleasure, and in his depravity, Jack was going to treasure the memory.   
But he had to talk to Dark, had to convince him not to tell. And Mark couldn't know. And so he pressed the elevator button that would bring him to the lobby, bypassing his room. He was about to do something he was not proud of. Not proud at all. But desperation cares nothing for morals and pride.   
He'd seen the pharmacy he was headed to on his way back from Anti's… first night. He knew exactly what he needed, and it was easy to find. Sleep aids. And something to hide them in. Something to lure out Dark, leaving Mark none the wiser. He felt sick again as he paid for the pills and a bottle of Mark's favorite soda, guilt settling into his stomach like a heavy stone. But this was for the good of them both.   
Right?  
Right.  
He'd barely removed anything from his suitcase, so packing up his room was simple and quick. The receptionist was efficient with checkout. Everything passed in a blur, his mind elsewhere as he settled his account and dragged his bag back into the elevator. His hand shook as he pressed the button to Mark's floor. Now or never, he told himself. Protect their friendship at all cost.   
He had to stop and take a steadying breath before knocking, trying to slow his racing heart. When that door opened, he would betray his dear friend's trust.  
And right then, he was okay with it. Guilty, but okay with it.

"Geez, I was about to send out a search party! Did you get lost?" Mark was loud and boisterous as he ushered Jack back into the suite, taking the suitcase from him. He'd already pulled out the sofa bed and set it up for Jack to sleep on. He was bright eyed, almost excited, as if this were a simple sleepover and not some twisted necessity.  
"Sorry, I was cravin' a snack." Jack held up a candy bar and the bottle he'd bought. "Got you a soda."  
He tossed the bottle at Mark. He caught it, looking at it inquisitively, eyebrows knitted together. "But I have drinks in the mini fridge…?"  
"Yeah, but not this type, right?"  
"Oh, you're right! Thanks man!" He lifted the bottle to eye level. "... is this open already?"  
"I might've taken a little sip," Jack said nonchalantly, sheepish grin on his face. His acting was on par and he knew it, but his heart was beating out of his chest.  
Mark rolled his eyes and chuckled. Without any more questions, he opened it up and took a swig, humming happily.   
They sat in comfortable silence on the sofa bed, Jack munching his candy bar and Mark sipping his soda, fiddling with their phones and halfway watching some stupid show on TV. It all just seemed… normal. Like they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying each other's company.   
And Jack waited. He even tried typing the stupid search phrase, 'infection causing demon possession' into Google. No results, of course, just horror movie tropes and creepypastas. But he scrolled anyway. Scrolled and scrolled and scrolled until his eyes weren't even focused and all his attention was on surreptitiously listening to Mark's breathing.   
And then, he heard it. Mark's breathing finally began to slow, and he felt him start to slump down.   
"Mark?" Jack asked innocently, turning to face his friend. "You okay, bud?"  
"Huh?" Mark's head popped up, eyes cracking open. "Oh… I must have dozed off. Feeling kind of… sleepy…"  
"Maybe you should take a nap?"  
"But…" the thought was interrupted by a yawn. "Won't that let Dark out?"  
"Don't worry, I won't let 'em do anythin'."  
"Are… are you sure…?"  
"Yup!" Jack feigned cheerfulness despite feeling as if he might burst into guilty tears any moment. "C'mon buddy, let's get you into bed."  
Mark was heavy, half asleep as Jack helped him into the bedroom. His body made a 'whump' sound as it hit the mattress, and he was asleep before he could even get under the covers.   
Jack sat in a chair near the bed, anxious knots in his stomach. He rocked himself back and forth as he finally whispered the name. "Dark."  
Mark's skin bloomed impossible shades of monochrome. It started from his right hand and crawled up his arm and across his neck until his whole body flickered like a black and white TV.   
And the entity sat up, cracking his neck as he slowly turned to face Jack, affixing him in place with those pitch black eyes.   
"Sean," he said, lips caressing the word and a soft chuckle, like wood smoke, rumbling in his chest. "Barely met and you are already looking for me?"  
"Jack, " Jack corrected him, giving him a sharp glare despite his trembling nerves. "We're not friends. "  
"Of course. My apologies, Jack." A crooked smile snaked across his face. It screamed danger, predator, malice. "So, you called?"  
"Yeah. " Jack chewed his lip as the thing wearing Mark's skin scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed, knees inches from Jack's. "We… we need to talk."  
"Oh?" His smile grew wider as he cocked his head to the side. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"  
"Mark."  
"Oh." Dark looked mildly put out.  
"How much does he know?"  
"About…?"  
"You know damn well what about, Dark. Last night. What we… what you and Anti did."  
"You… were awake?"  
"You didn't know?"  
Dark let out a low, frustrated growl, but Jack knew it wasn't directed at him. "I did not. Anti… that sadist…"  
"Was Mark awake?"  
"No." Dark shook his head. "And he sleeps now as well. I assume you do not want him knowing about this? Enough that you would drug him?"  
"Shut up," Jack snapped. The stone of guilt in his stomach grew heavier. "I did what I had ta. Mark can't know."  
"And why is that?"  
"Because he'll hate me! He'll want nothing ta do with me! How is he supposed ta feel, knowin' some… some thing… used his body ta fuck his friend? And and and…. And that that friend…" Jack choked, tears threatening to overflow. "That friend liked it. No, loved it. That that friend had been dreamin' of doin' that fer years, and that that friend would probably not be able ta resist if he were offered it again?"  
Dark raised an eyebrow at Jack's tirade of admissions, small smile on his face. His bottomless eyes locked with Jack's, and a shiver ran down Jack's spine. He felt like a rabbit, frozen solid, caught in the gaze of a hungry wolf.   
"We cannot have that, now, can we? I need to stay close to Anti. To keep him from ruining our plans."  
"What are yer plans? And who is behind this? Whatever this is…"  
"Oh, Jack," Dark sighed, bemused, as if he were placating a child in the middle of a tantrum. He reached to stroke Jack's cheek.   
And it was manipulation. Jack knew it. This fake intimacy from Dark, he should hate it, but that was Mark's hand, Mark's body, reaching for him, and it took every ounce of strength in him to pull away.   
Dark just continued to look amused, pulling Jack's strings as he was. "We are here to stay. Even now, we are cementing our place. There will be more."  
"The hell does that mean?" Jack spat, but Dark wasn't going to give him any more answers, he could tell from the look in his eyes. "We're off topic. I called ya here to discuss what Mark knows and what he can't find out."  
Dark hummed, and it was so heartbreakingly similar to the hum Mark had let out earlier drinking the laced soda that Jack felt his breath catch. Why was he doing this? What could Dark possibly gain by manipulating him this way?  
He knew.   
Control.   
Dark had control, not just of Mark's body, but of Jack's emotions, his heart, his very friendship with the object of his affections. Both Dark and Jack knew it.  
"I will not tell Mark," Dark finally said, reaching out to Jack again to run his cold hand down his shoulder. "But I require something from you." His voice was low, inviting, downright seductive as he purred those words.   
"W-w-what do you want?" Jack's mouth was dry.   
"Convince Anti to follow the plan."  
Jack sighed longingly, letting the creature's hand trace his arm. His brain was fuzzy. It felt good, his touch. Mark's touch.   
No.   
No, this wasn't Mark's touch. This was the temptation of a demon. He pulled away again, eliciting another smoky chuckle from Dark.  
"How 'm I s'pose to convince Anti to do anything? I couldn't even stop him from hurting that girl. "  
"You share a brain with him. Find a way."  
"What if I can't?"  
Dark shrugged. The wickedness in his eyes pierced Jack. "Maybe Mark will need to know exactly how you feel."  
Jack almost threw up on the spot. Images tumbled through his head; Mark, staring at him in disbelief. Mark, screaming at him for his betrayal. Mark, looking down at him with pure disgust in his eyes.   
It was that look that scared him the most. That look of hatred he was so sure Mark would turn on him if he knew what had happened, what he felt inside, left a cold in him that chilled him to the bone. He would do anything to never have to see that look.   
It would kill him.   
"I'll… I'll figure somethin' out…"  
"Good." Dark smiled, the malice draining from it, though Jack was sure it was a facade. "Come." He patted the bed beside him.  
"What?"  
"Come, sit with me. Let me hold you, reward you."  
"What?!"  
Dark laughed, dark and heavy. "Let this body hold you."  
"Are you out of yer mind?!"  
"Not at all," Dark said quietly, softening his smile even more. "I simply want to reward you for cooperating. Unless you would rather I did not? I assumed you might want to feel his arms around you when you were in full control."  
"I want _him_ to hold me, not you."  
"I may be the closest you will ever get."  
That stung, and Jack choked again. He had held back the tears so long, and finally, the dam broke. He sobbed, undignified. Dark was right. He knew it was a manipulation, a sick tactic to ensure he complied, but Dark was still right. Mark would never love him, he knew it. He'd been watching, waiting, looking for some sort of sign that his heart wouldn't be broken if he put himself out there, but that sign never came, and so he was certain Mark couldn't, wouldn't feel the same.   
He slunk off the chair and into the floor, tears rolling down his face.   
"Come, Jack," Dark said again, and it almost sounded like he pitied him. "Let me dry your tears."  
Jack felt his resolve break. Why resist? What was one more transgression to hide from Mark? He sniffled as he climbed onto the bed, curling into a near fetal position. He felt Dark lay behind him and press close, wrapping an arm around his waist. Warm breath ghosted across his ear and neck, and it was soothing.  
"There you go," Dark whispered, pulling him closer. "Let it all go, Jack."  
And despite the early afternoon hour, Jack felt the exhaustion sweep through him, and he sobbed himself asleep, laying as the little spoon in Dark's arms.  
The sinful arms of a manipulative demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I'll try to get more of this out while I've got this wave of inspiration.


	8. Manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but it's pretty important methinks.  
> Also, time to mess with Mark a little. :D

The glitch awoke, and Dark was furious.   
He had left Jack asleep in bed as soon as he had felt him drift off, pulling a chair up close to wait for Anti's awakening. The sun had set shortly beforehand, and as time ticked by, he felt himself getting more and more angry. He had no doubt his auras would soon detach and fizzle around him. He must be careful. He was unsure the limits of this body.   
"Anti." He said the name as calmly as he could, but the rage was already boiling in him.  
"Oh, hey Dark," Anti responded nonchalantly, stretching as he sat up. He was smirking. He knew Dark was pissed. And he loved it. Bastard. "Not even sure what yah got yer panties in a bunch about, but mad is a good look for yah."  
Dark couldn't stop the sneer. "You are determined to make this as difficult for me as possible, are you not?"  
"It's not personal, Darky-dark. If it makes yah feel any better, I'd probably have been even more difficult fer anyone else. Think Nil could've handled me? She hasn't paid near enough attention ta that human porn ta be able ta fuck me like you did."  
"That is not the point, little glitch," Dark rumbled from his chest. Of course Anti was going to twist the situation to fit his perverse narrative; if it wasn't violence or sex, Anti wasn't interested. "There is a plan in place. A plan we are expected to follow if we wish to create a foothold here."  
"Newsflash!" Anti sung back to him. "I weren't included in that plan. Jaysus, why tha fuck do I smell like you?"  
Dark gripped the armrests of his chair until his knuckles turned an even whiter shade than normal. "Regardless of your participation in the formulating of the plan, which I might add you were supposed to have attended but did not, our primary purpose in this operation is to spread the infection as much as possible within the localized area."  
"Sorry I missed the big meeting, that necrophiliac killer over in China had himself another victim, no way I was missin' that show ta listen ta some sticks in tha mud drone on about plans and shite."  
"You disgust me," Dark growled.   
"And you bore me. What's yer point? You used ta be much more fun when we'd watch the wars together. You used ta like the bloodshed almost as much as me. After World War II you floated off somewhere."  
"I got tired of watching. I wanted to experience."  
"Well, yer experiencing now. Why are ya holdin' back?"  
Dark sighed, loosening his grip on the chair. "Did it ever occur to you, Anti, that our time here in these bodies might be limited? That our… 'hosts'... may eventually be able to expel us? You sleep during daylight hours, but I do not, and they are actively attempting to figure us out."  
The look on Anti's face, a blank stare from his toxic green eyes, told Dark that no, he had, in fact, not thought of that at all.  
"Typical Anti." Dark sighed, feeling some of the anger that had been building up on him start to dissipate. Something about that little glitch, that infuriating, nonsensical, petty little glitch, seemed to prevent him from ever staying too mad at him. "There need to be more of us here. Strength in numbers."  
Anti cleared his throat. He looked anywhere but at Dark. He was obviously thinking about what Dark had said, but since it was an inconvenient fact for him, he was going to dance around it. Dark knew him. Despite never having had to work with him, he knew Anti. A glitch is never as complicated or random as it presents itself; it has a pattern. And if Dark was good at nothing else, he was good at patterns. Pulling them apart, stretching them, breaking them… molding them to fit his will.   
"I'll ask yah again, then," Anti's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Why does this body smell like yah?"  
"You sound a little jealous, Anti," Dark smirked. "But if you must know, I was working on your host a little. Making him more… compliant."  
"Compliant with what?" Anti eyed him suspiciously. He had every right to be suspicious. Dark just looked back at him blankly, smirk still in place. "Don't fuck with me, Dark."  
"You seemed to be begging me to do just that last night."  
"Shove it, yah fuckin' riddle-slingin' narcissist." Anti jumped to his feet, form stuttering in anger. His outline trembled, shapes going hazy around him. His fists were clenched into fists, dark nails pressing half moons into his palms.  
Dark raised an eyebrow, not bothering to move from the chair as he looked up at Anti. "Are you going to throw another tantrum now?"  
"I might!" Anti was attempting to sound as threatening as possible, but his voice bursting into frustrated static did not help his cause. "Might jes' fuck yer shit up right here, Dark. I'm sick of your bull. Yah always have ta ruin my fun."  
"Why so angry, little glitch?"  
"Yer playin' me like a fiddle! And could yah stop remindin' me of my rank every damn time yah talk to me?!"  
"You need to remember your place. Lowest of the low, a minor nuisance."  
"I'll show yah minor!" Anti was stuttering all over the place, unable to keep himself whole in his anger. He stalked forward, knife materializing in his hand as he eyed Dark with murderous contempt.   
"Be careful, Anti. That body has limits, and-" Dark shuddered suddenly, eyes rolling back in his head for a brief moment. When they refocused, Anti had stopped his death march and was staring at him. "My host is waking up."  
"It's night. Losin' yer touch, Dark?"  
"He was drugged and has been sleeping since early afternoon. The drugs are wearing off. He will want control back."  
"Fuck 'em," Anti spat. "You and I have business."  
"No. Our business can wait. It is far easier to convince your host to coexist than to brute force your way in. I will not compromise my position."  
"What's to stop me from killin' again?"  
"I will still be awake." The monochrome tint of Dark's skin began to recede, creeping down from his hairline. "Anti. Behave. I am watching." And then he closed his eyes, and the cold aura of the room dissipated.

Mark took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His brain felt fuzzy and sluggish, like he'd been asleep a long time. He couldn't remember much past listening to the soft chatter of the TV in the background as he and Jack had been hanging out. He must've fallen asleep.   
But how had he gotten into the chair in the bedroom…?  
As his thoughts tried to catch up with his situation, he finally registered a figure standing a few feet from him.   
"Jack?" he croaked, throat feeling dry. "Is that you?"  
"You can call me that if yah want ta," the figure responded. It stepped closer, and Mark realized it was all wrong.   
He recognized the lilting Irish accent, but that was not Jack's voice. It had such an undercurrent of delirium it was unsettling. The teeth that peeked out from his crooked grin were too sharp, the fingernails too long, and the eyes were the wrong color.   
Not only were his eyes the wrong color, they gleamed with the glassy spark of madness and volatility.   
"You're not Jack," he mumbled. No, Jack was always clear eyed and stable.   
"I guess it's nice ta meet yah," said the Jack-thing. "I'm Anti."  
"Oh… you're the one Dark put in Jack… the crazy one… is… is Jack in there?"  
"Poor Jackaboy's exhausted. I'm lettin' him sleep… fer now." The crooked grin on Anti's face grew impossibly wider. "Did Jack tell yah all about what he and I did? When we killed that stripper?" Anti shivered, as if the memory brought him immense pleasure.   
"He told me enough," Mark whispered.   
_Be careful. He can be unpredictable._  
"It fucked 'em right up, bet. Did he come back cryin'? Did he throw up? Gimme all the details."  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Mark couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice, but this only seemed to amuse Anti more. Those bright eyes only lit up brighter.   
"Did he ask yah ta comfort him, Marky?" Anti paced closer. "Did he cling on ta yah?" Closer still. "Did he beg yah ta heal him with these pretty pink lips and big ol' baby blues?"  
"What are you-"   
He didn't get to finish the thought. Anti pounced into his lap, straddling him. He radiated black heat, suddenly far, far, far too close for comfort. His black nails scratched at Mark's arms, and he leaned forward.   
"Did he ask yah to fuck him, Marky-boy?" Anti whispered into his ear. He licked Mark's neck with a tongue that was too long, wild giggles leaking from his lips.   
_Give me control, Mark._  
Mark shook his head, answering both demons. "Jack would never do that."  
"Yah don't think?" Anti nipped at Mark's neck. The other man attempted to lean away, pushing at the body on top of his. But despite Jack's - no, Anti's - wiry frame and slender figure, he didn't budge an inch. Anti laughed, grabbing onto Mark's shoulders. His movements in Mark's lap were making a very uncomfortable heat begin to coil within him, and he wanted it to stop.  
"Jack, I know you're in there. Somewhere. Please, wake up. Stop this."  
"Nope!" Anti sang. "Fast asleep! Jus' me and you!"  
 _Give me control._  
"Not yet," Mark growled. "Jack, buddy, you don't want to do this, I know it. Stop."  
"Oho, he doesn't? He drugged yah, yah know. Didn't yah wonder why yah suddenly got all sleepy?"  
"He what?" Mark's mind went blank trying to process that info.   
"Wonder what he was doin' all that time you were asleep…"  
"What...why…?"  
"Dunno, I was fast asleep. But since I'm here now, why don't we explore some o' the things he coulda done? I'm itchin' for blood. Sex and blood." Anti's nails trailed down the thin fabric of Mark's shirt, going for his pants zipper.   
"No, stop!" Mark attempted to snatch Anti's hand away, but he was like stone, unmovable, and Mark felt panic begin to rise in his chest.   
_Give me control. Now. I can stop him. I do not know how far he will go if I do not._  
"Alright!"  
The grey skin tone rushed in, Mark's eyes fading into deep black. The hand on Anti's wrist tugged, and Anti feel forward. Dark's other hand came up, fingers splayed, and landed a decisive blow against Anti's chest.   
Anti flew backwards across the room. He hit the wall with a loud thud and slid down into the floor. The loud crack of dislocating bones echoed in the large bedroom as Dark finally stood from the chair. His auras detached and fizzled around him, angry red and blue crowding the space behind him. His skin flickered like channels changing on an old black and white TV.   
"What do you think you are doing, glitch?" Dark growled. He cracked his neck, hateful energy rolling off him in waves.  
"Pokin' the hornet's nest." Bones snapping, Anti pulled himself together until he was sitting up against the wall. He looked up at the angry demon and smiled, full of teeth, as a small trickle of blood dripped down his forehead. "That's gonna leave some marks. Speakin' of, he still awake?"  
"No, you have my full attention. He did not want to see whatever it was you were trying to do. And he needs to… process..."  
"Good." More cracking as Anti stood. Bruises were already forming on his bare skin, peeking out from under his clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finished popping everything back into place. Then, his gleaming, insane eyes locked on Dark and he was smiling once again, all teeth and madness. He stalked forward, drawing himself up as he stopped short of Dark by only a few inches.   
They stared at one another in tense silence, breathing echoing off the walls. And Anti stood a little straighter and wrapped his arms around Dark's neck, pulling their bodies flush against one another. Dark inhaled sharply. Anti radiated mad warmth all the way to his bones.   
"If yer not gonna let me have fun," Anti whispered in his ear, pressing close. "Yah need ta give me somethin'."  
Dark grasped Anti's hips bruisingly tight, energy sizzling around him. "I do not have to give you anything. I do not reward poor behavior."  
Anti giggled wildly. "But yah want ta. Yah think yer the master manipulator, here, Darky-dark, but I know yah want me."  
"I want you-," Dark growled, lifting Anti easily and carrying him to the suite closet. He opened the door, pushing aside the provided safe with his foot, and set a bewildered Anti down inside. "To follow the plan and behave."  
"Tha fuck you think yer doin-" Anti didn't have time to finish his thought before Dark slammed the door on him and pulled the chair up under the door handle. The closet knob jiggled wildly as Anti clawed at it, screaming profanities through the door. It wouldn't hold for long, Dark knew, so as quickly as his body would let him, he pushed the bedroom dresser in front of the closet door.   
Anti continued to wail and spit like an angry cat, but Dark felt satisfied that it would hold until morning. Sighing, he sat down on the bed. He had not anticipated Anti being the one brought over. He had not anticipated having to both babysit and attempting to coerce the glitch into following their plan. He had not anticipated the tangled knot of emotions between their hosts.  
But he would find a way to use it to his advantage.   
He also had not anticipated the warmth in his body just from the close proximity of the other entity. And it pissed him off beyond all rationality.   
"I pull the strings," he rumbled quietly, though there would have been no way Anti could have heard him through his pounding on the door. "You will not best me."  
Dark wasn't sure who, exactly, he was talking to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't decided if I want to have Dark give in to Anti and write some more Danti smut or if I just want to move on with the plot... :-/


	9. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very plot-heavy and uses a few of those characters I needed to move the plot along but that don't really matter mentioned in the tags.

Everything _hurt_.  
Jack opened his eyes; even that felt like a monumental task. He felt like he had been hit by a freight train. He found himself crowded into the corner of a very tight space, darkness pressing in from all sides.   
He panicked. It was like he was trapped inside his own head again, and he nearly started screaming at Anti to let him out before his eyes registered the slivers of light in front of him. He reached out and found something solid, and he traced it with his hands until he found a doorknob. His heart rate started to slow as he realized he was in a closet. That in itself was weird, but far less terrifying than being held hostage in his own body.   
Grooves around the doorknob suggested that someone had been scratching, trying to claw their way out the door. Just what in the hell had happened?  
And them he remembered falling asleep in Dark's arms, and his stomach fell into his feet.  
He tried the door handle. It turned without much resistance, but the door wouldn't budge. He pushed harder. Something scraped along the floor. So there was something in front of the door. And he was far too exhausted and hurt to try and push whatever it was away by himself.   
He felt his pockets for his phone. Nothing. His pockets were empty. He sighed. He was going to have to do this the hard way.   
"...hello? Anyone out there?" He rapped on the door. He had no idea what time it was or if anyone was even around, but he had to get out of this closet before he choked on the darkness. "...Mark?"  
There was silence for several minutes, only Jack's heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then he heard the quiet squeak of bed springs.  
"I'm here." Mark's voice was a low monotone that made Jack's skin crawl. He only used that voice when something was very, very wrong.   
"Could ya… could ya let me outta here? Please?"  
No response. The only answer he got was the scraping sound of something heavy being moved and a quiet grunt of effort from Mark. The closest door swung open, and Jack had to throw his arm over his eyes to block out the sudden surge of light. He stood, bones crackling in protest, and as he blinked away the fog from his eyes, there was Mark, standing in the closet doorway like some sort of hero.  
But Jack felt his heart break as he finally made out the expression on Mark's face.   
The look of deep sadness, utter devastation written on every one of his features made Jack's breath catch in his throat. He looked at him as if he'd betrayed him on an unfathomable level.   
And if Jack was going to be honest with himself, he had. Twice.  
"Mark… I… what's…. What's wrong?" Jack stuttered out, unsure of what else to say as the awkward silence stretched between them. Mark looked away, stare boring holes into the ground.   
"I thought I'd be able to hide it until later…" he mumbled to himself. Shaking his head in despair, he looked back to Jack. "Sean… you drugged me. Why the fuck would you drug me?"  
Jack's blood ran cold. He felt his jaw begin to work, trying to form words. But he couldn't think of any to form. Anything he could say would only make things worse. So instead, he just looked back at Mark, eyes watering, and trembled under the gaze of his disappointed best friend.   
Mark sighed. "Forget it. We don't have much time - Emily's memorial service starts soon, we have to get going." He turned away before hesitating, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Jack. "But this isn't over. I thought you trusted me, Sean. I thought I trusted you. I hope you can explain everything to me later."  
"Ye-ye-yea," Jack croaked, finally stepping out of the closet. Part of him was relieved to not have to explain himself right then, but the other part quivered in anxiety, wondering just what the fuck he was going to tell Mark.  
And how he could ever repair that broken trust.   
That look of betrayal would be the death of him. 

_You are really upset._  
Dark finally popped up in the back of Mark's mind as he and Jack climbed into the backseat of their uber. He was still struggling with a torrent of emotions. Anger. Confusion. But mostly just… disappointment. He'd had hours to process what Anti had said, but found himself no closer to acceptance than when he started. He just felt bewildered.  
 _"I'm not in the mood Dark."_  
Quiet laughter rumbled through his head like a distant peal of thunder. He wasn't in the mood for any of this. Not Dark. Not Anti. Not Jack.  
A wave of guilt washed over him at his last thought. His eyes slid over to the green-haired man sitting next to him as the car stopped and started, attempting to navigate Atlanta traffic. Jack looked smaller than usual as he stared out the window at the passing urban landscape, as if he was curling in on himself, shrinking away from something, and despite his dark emotions, Mark found himself wanting to comfort him. Wanting to pull him close in a familiar hug and tell him that everything was going to be alright.   
And then Anti's words came floating back to him, and the low boil of anger grew in his stomach again.   
_"Dark… I know I said I'm not in the mood, but… do you know anything about what happened with Jack? While I was asleep?"_  
Another rumble of laughter. _My lips are sealed._  
Mark clenched his fist. Dark knew something and wasn't telling him. Jack had betrayed his trust. Was there anyone around him that wasn't hiding something from him?! His knuckles popped as he clenched his fist harder.   
"Mark…" Jack's voice was timid, and Mark felt his fist start to relax as he looked over at the little Irishman. Blue eyes, still watery with repressed emotion, gazed back at him, and Jack's head hung low as if he were a kicked puppy. "Are ya… are ya okay?"  
"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm not okay. But I will be. For now, let's just get to the memorial and put all this on the back burner. We have to be focused now. Though…" Mark cleared his throat and let out a small, dark laugh. "You know how great I am at focusing. I am the God of focus."  
Jack swallowed thickly, a pained chuckle escaping his lips. "Yep, laser-focused Mark, that's you." He smiled, seemingly appreciative of Mark's attempt to break some of the tension. "I understand. Let's get this done. Tha sooner I'm rid of this… thing… tha better."   
The air between them seemed just a little bit lighter as Mark turned his attention to the landscape outside his window. The highways opened up, gray stone and gleaming metal buildings gently giving way to trees and grass. Flowers bloomed along the roadside. It was almost as if Atlanta was its own little metropolis world, completely out of touch with the striking beauty of magnolia trees and Georgia red clay. Despite the air conditioned interior of the car, the humidity so indicative of the southeastern US continued to press in on him, hugging his skin. Definitely different from California, but not altogether unpleasant.  
Mark let his thoughts wander. He relived the last few days, still stuck on what Jack's inner demon had said. He wracked his brain for any indication, any clue, as to why Jack might have done what he did. He had been acting weird lately, but Mark had chalked it up to their extremely bizarre situation. Was he just completely oblivious to everything outside himself? Was he really that self centered? The thought didn't sit right with him. Maybe… maybe this was partially his fault. Maybe Jack had been trying to tell him something all along and he had been too self absorbed to see it...  
But how did any of that make sense?  
He shook his head slightly, trying to ward off the confusing line of thought. Focus on something else. Anything else.   
An image of Anti in his lap floated unbidden into his mind. The way the troublemaker had breathed on him, so close, licking his neck, stiflingly hot, with Jack's body…  
Jack's body… it was small, wasn't it? Not exactly skinny, but smaller than Mark's, with those bony hips and those full lips and those sky blue eyes, and his skin. His smooth skin, Irish pale. Mark was a very physical guy; he'd hugged Jack plenty of times but never paid much attention to how his skin felt. And he found himself wondering if it was as soft as he was imagining, if it would slide smoothly under his fingers if he were to run them down his abdomen and--  
His thoughts came to a screeching halt. Was he… was he fantasizing about his best friend? A guy? No less, the guy that had just betrayed the fundamental trust between friends?! His face burned and he thought he might gag; Mark had no problem with gay people, he just wasn't.   
He wasn't.   
He was… pretty sure he wasn't.   
Dark's laughter was loud in his head, mocking.   
_Humans. So hung up on the strangest of things._  
 _"Shut up, Dark! You wouldn't understand! This is…. This is a big deal… holy shit..."_  
 _That seemed to have hit a nerve._  
Mark huffed, pushing the unwanted thoughts into a dark corner of his mind along with his patronizing inner demon. That was an issue he just wasn't going to touch, not if he could help it. Their situation was fucked enough as it was without the extra layer of homosexual panic added on.  
"I think we're here, Mark," Jack said quietly, breaking the silence.   
The car pulled to a stop in the parking lot of a small red brick church. It was quaint, in a way, squatting in the middle of an open green field, a well maintained cemetery spreading out behind it. It looked like something out of a picture book, bell tower intact and gleaming, exterior taken care of. They were worlds away from Atlanta, in the middle of nowhere.   
They exited the car. There wasn't really a large crowd in the church's vicinity. A few teenagers, probably classmates of the girl, stood around awkwardly in their dark clothes, arms full of flowers and stuffed bears. No one was speaking. They just looked at each other, guilt written on their faces, reluctant to go inside.   
"Excuse me," Mark addressed them, breaking what felt like some sort of sacred silence. His voice sounded unnaturally loud; even the birdsong was hushed. "Umm.. Emily's family?"  
One of the teens pointed towards the door.   
A haggard woman stood near the open grand church doors, eyes tear-swollen. She didn't cry; she just looked tired, as if all her tears had already been wrung out of her until there was nothing left. The heavy air seemed almost darker around her. She spoke quietly to the few adults that headed into the church, handing them programs, nodding and giving exhausted smiles.   
"Mark…" Jack whispered, and Mark was suddenly aware of how close he'd gotten. "I feel bad about bein' here. We don't really belong…"  
Mark sighed, patting Jack's shoulder. "I know, I don't feel good about it either, but there has to be something here. Something to tell us what's infected us. And… I feel like I should pay my respects to a fan, anyway."  
They approached the woman, and she looked up at them with mournful eyes.  
"Can I help you?" she asked, voice thick with grief, though not necessarily unkind.   
"Um, yes, hi. I, uh, I'm Mark Fischbach, and, um, this is Sean McLoughlin…" Mark trailed off, feeling awkward in the face of the women's evident pain.  
"Hi," Jack offered quietly, standing a few feet away. The woman obviously did not recognize them.  
"Were you friends of Emily's?"  
"Uh, not exactly… she came to see me at the big con a few days ago while I was doing a fan meet and greet. Before she- well, you know…" Mark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His face burned in embarrassment. This was not how he envisioned talking to a grieving family member, and he felt terrible at his lack of decorum.  
"Fan meet and greet…" the woman repeated thoughtfully. She glanced at Mark's face, and a spark of recognition lit up her face. "Oh! I know you! My daughter loved your videos! She watched them all the time. She was so excited to meet you when I told her she could go, and then… and then…" She choked, voice cracking. A silent sob wracked her body, and not knowing what else to do, Mark put a comforting hand on her shoulder.   
"I'm so sorry," he muttered, Jack echoing the sentiment behind him.  
"Thank you," she finally managed, wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Em would have been so honored you were here. Please, come in, stay a bit. Our family is small and Em didn't have a whole lot of friends, so there's plenty of room. She'd be so, so happy you were here…"  
They both took programs from her and quietly made their way into the church. Mourners whispered amongst themselves. The red velvet walkway runner had been lined with white lilies, splitting the small church in half with pews along the sides. A closed white and gold coffin stood at the end of the runner, more flowers bursting around a picture of the girl.   
_Get closer, Mark. I feel something… from the casket…_  
Dark's voice in his head startled him, disturbing the hush around him. He jumped, taking a few steps back in surprise, and ran right into Jack.   
"You okay?" Jack asked him for the nth time, gently pushing him back upright.   
"Dark wants me to get closer."  
"What? Why?"  
"Says he feels something...I don't know what that means…" he looked at Jack, who had nothing to offer but a confused shrug.   
"I think I'm gonna sit. You can go ahead. I feel real out of place here…" Jack slid into a pew towards the back, waving Mark onward.   
Mark sighed for the nth time and continued down the aisle; it felt impossibly long as he approached the end. The hairs on the back of his neck rose with every step, Dark pressing against his mind, straining for something. Mark's heart began to thud loudly in his ears, louder louder louder still until finally the runner ended and he stood no more than a foot from Emily Hyde's casket.   
_I feel it. I feel the energy… one of ours… was in her. Zero._  
Mark ran his fingers along a handle, a strange crackle of energy tingling in his fingers. _"If another one of you was in her… where are they now?"_  
 _Gone._  
The finality of Dark's tone told Mark he wasn't getting any more information. He felt his face twitch in frustration. But just before he could let loose a tirade of angry rantings at his mind's resident, a hand tapped him on the shoulder.   
He spun around, once again startled, and focused on the young woman who'd hailed him.   
"Oh my God, it really is you," she breathed, voice full of awe. She couldn't have been more than 16 or 17, nearly average in every way. Average weight, average height, dirty blond hair in a low bun, brown eyes… a typical high schooler. "You're Markiplier!"  
Almost instinctively, his showman persona kicked in and he smiled at the girl widely. "Yep, that's me!"  
"Emily would have been so syked you were here," the girl muttered, glancing at the coffin then back to Mark's face. "I'm Kelly. I'm- uh, I was, Emily's best friend. We were big fans. I was supposed to be at the con with her but I got sick that day, lucky me..."  
"Well, thanks for all your support. I'm so sorry for your loss."  
"Yeah…" Kelly looked distant, staring into space as she absently ran her hand across the closed coffin lid. "Um… so, uh, why are you, you know, here?"  
"I met Emily right before she passed away. She was acting a little strange..." He paused, then quickly added, "And I wanted to pay my respects."  
"Yeah, she was acting a little weird at the end there…" the girl took a deep breath.  
"So she wasn't always so, um, off?"  
"No," Kelly shook her head. "I started noticing her acting different after our school field trip. I guess… maybe I should have said something. And maybe if I had been with her like we planned, she wouldn't have… done what she did. "  
"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's not your fault." Mark caught her eyes, patting her shoulder soothingly. "You had no way of knowing this would happen."  
"I guess," Kelly shrugged, looking not entirely convinced.  
"So… what happened? You know, on the field trip? I don't mean to pry, but I'm just curious." Mark tried to sound as innocent and unobtrusive as possible; he felt so guilty, as if he was torturing a prisoner for information.  
"Don't know. My cousin Annie works at the CDC, so I was able to get her to arrange a field trip for the biology class when we started the unit on bacteria and stuff. You know, just the front part, not, like, actually in the labs. I had to go to the bathroom, but when I got back to the group, Em was collapsed in the floor, jerking all around and stuff, like a seizure or something. I could never get her to tell me what happened, and Annie pretty much pushed everyone out right then and we had to go back to class. Do you think she, you know, hit her head really hard?"  
"Maybe," Mark answered, though he was only halfway paying attention past that point. He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he processed the information. So maybe the CDC was ground zero.   
"Sorry, Markiplier, it's time for services to start and im giving a speech, so, uh, I gotta go…" Kelly's hesitant voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally looked around and noticed everyone had begun to settle into the pews.  
"Yeah, sure, sorry. Thanks for talking with me."  
"Thanks for being here. Really, Emily would have loved it." The girl gave him a weak smile that sent pangs of guilt through his chest as she turned away. He felt so bad for being there, gathering information at a damn funeral of all places. He had to force his feet to turn him around and head back to the pew he'd left Jack sitting in. Somehow, Jack seemed to have avoided too much attention, though his bright green hair and snow white skin sat in defiant contrast to the somber surroundings. Jack smiled up at him warmly as he scooted over to make room, and Mark let himself down with all the grace of a sack of bricks.  
"Didja learn anythin'?" Jack breathed, holding his voice down as the service was starting.   
"Yeah. We'll talk later, okay?" Mark eyed Jack out of the corner of his eye as the other man nodded. When had he become so...demure?  
He had no time to process it as a microphone crackled to life over a speaker he hadn't noticed and the memorial began.

The service was beautiful, if not a little quaint. Emily Hyde had been a normal teenaged girl. Not terribly popular, but not generally disliked, either. She'd played soccer for her high school and volunteered at the local animal shelter. She'd enjoyed writing and video games. There was nothing particularly special about her. But she had been alive, vibrant, only to have been snuffed out. They called it suicide, but knowing something… or someone… had been in her, Mark was no longer sure this was the case.  
And the fact that this thing, one of the same things that currently resided in his own head, had taken her life and was now ruining his and Jack's, made him angry. Angry and sad. For the girl. And for himself.   
And Jack.   
He'd eyed Jack several times during the proceedings. He hadn't shown much in the way of emotion, just sat there, lost look on his face. He looked like hell walking; sleepless eyes, bruised and broken.   
_I am sorry…_  
Dark sounded almost truly apologetic, but Mark didn't believe it for a minute. He was now sure: Dark was not his friend. He was not his partner. He was a parasite, slowly draining the life from him.  
 _I did not mean to hurt him so badly. There was no other way to stop what Anti was doing._  
 _"Save it, Dark. Whatever he's done, Jack doesn't deserve that."_  
 _Oh? Suddenly over your anger, Mark?_  
Mark didn't bother to answer Dark's mocking comment, ignoring that rolling chuckle echoing in his head, as he and Jack slipped out of the church. He couldn't bring himself to stay any longer; it felt as if he were invading this poor girl's life, somewhere he didn't belong, so he climbed into the Uber as quickly as he could, wanting to be gone from there.  
This time, the ride back into the city seemed to go a lot faster. They didn't speak. Mark was lost in thought, wondering how he was going to approach the elephant in the room with Jack, wondering how the little Irishman was going to explain away his actions. If he even could.   
He was nowhere near a decision by the time they reached the hotel and they clamored out of the car in the early afternoon sun. In the doors. Up the elevator. Into the cool of the suite. Sounds seemed so much louder. The elevator's 'ding'. Their footsteps down the hallway. The click of the door closing and locking. The soft creak of the sofa as they both sat down. Even the awkward stare they shared seemed to create its own noise.   
"So…" Jack finally broke the silence, and everything came back into sharp relief. Why they were there, what they needed to do. "What… what didja find out?"  
"The girl that infected me, Emily, she was totally normal until her class took a field trip to the CDC. Her friend couldn't tell me what exactly happened there, but apparently the friend is somehow related to an employee. The relative was able to get them some sort of tour." Mark's voice sounded almost distant to him, as if he were listening to someone else speak so factually. "I'm thinking whatever started the infection probably came from there."  
"Makes sense," Jack nodded. "That relative must've had some pull ta be able ta get them a tour… didja get a name?"  
"Just a first name. Annie."  
"It's a start." Jack shrugged. "Guess it's time ta start lookin' up employees named Annie."  
"In a minute. We need to talk first."  
Everything went silent. Jack let out an audible gulp as he quickly looked away. He looked small again, a bundle of nerves.   
"Jack…" Mark tried to make his voice as soft and gentle as possible. "What happened? Why did you… you know… do what you did?"  
Jack sighed, giving the floor a pained smile. "I jus' needed ta talk ta Dark."  
"But why?"  
"You wouldn't understand, Mark."  
"What the fuck, Jack!" Mark couldn't keep the angry hurt out of his voice this time. He saw Jack twitch and flinch in the face of his anger. "Why did you need to talk to him? Why couldn't you talk to _me_? I thought we were friends!"  
"We _are_ friends, Mark!" Jack finally looked up at him, that pained smile still on his face. His eyes were such a big, light blue as he spoke, every word laced with a deep sadness. "There're some things, though… since things ya just can't talk about with yer friends. Sometimes ya need a neutral party."  
A quick flash of his earlier thoughts of running his hands over Jack's skin popped in to Mark's mind, and he quickly choked it down. He understood, that, at least, was something he couldn't tell his friend. "But… I still don't quite understand. Why Dark, Sean?"  
Jack sighed again, shoulders slumping. "Guess I jus' felt like… he was the only one I knew? And he was kind ta me, and he listened."  
"I still wish you could talk to me, Sean…"  
"I wish I could, too." Jack paused, chewing his lip. "I'm sorry, Mark. I wish I could explain it more. But I didn't mean ta betray you. I know ya can't trust me now, and that's a consequence I'll accept, but there was jus' somethin' I had ta do."  
Mark was disappointed. He had hoped for more answers, something to make it all make sense, but he realized… nothing Jack could've said would have stopped the feelings of hurt in his chest. He shook his head. "We'll always be friends, Jack. I just don't know… I don't know how we'll get past this."  
"I understand."  
They sat in silence, at an impasse. Dark was quiet in his head.   
They sat, together yet so far apart, and mourned the part of their friendship that had died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I am moving cross-country in a few days so I don't know when I'll be able to write and post next. But I won't give up on this, promise!!


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